Family TiesPart I Repost
by Darryl J
Summary: Post-'AYW'. A hurt Spike finds a woman that looks like Buffy and hates the slayer. It's a surprise to everyone when they find out who she is. And when she's from. B/S--with major plot intertwined complete with a BadAss big bad. **COMPLETE**
1. A Little Something to Deaden the Pain

***This was originally posted on Fanfiction.net, but since they are removing all NC-17 stories, I had to make the jump here. I hope those who haven't had the opportunity to read this enjoy it. Remember to leave reviews. 

***Disclaimer. None of the Buffy characters are Mine. But you know that already, don't you? 

***Since this first part is already written, I will probably post at least 2-4 chapters a day. By the time Part I is up, I should be finished with Part II. 

Chapter One

It was almost two in the afternoon, yet the sun had refused to surface. Instead, it stubbornly hid behind a gray sky that stretched across all of Sunnydale. It had rained for the better part of the day; sometimes raging in cloud bursts lasting fifteen minutes or whispering in light drops that almost disappeared before hitting the pavement. Then there was the steady drizzle, as it was now. It hit the ground in a non-committal way, unsure whether to splash already formed puddles or congeal together to create new ones. Simply put, it wasn't the most joyous day in Sunnydale.

And unless you were of a demonic persuasion, rarely was there a day to be called joyous when you lived on a Hellmouth. 

The figure that stood alone atop a cliff on the outskirts of town had found it joyous enough when he had first arrived four years ago. All the people, walking around unawares of what fate had bestowed upon them. And not to mention all the potential minions at one's disposal. But that hadn't been what had called him to Sunnydale. The same thing that kept him in this place even now, when he was harmless to those ever so delicious 'happy meals on legs', was what had brought him to _la boca de inferno _in the first place. Of course, those reasons were on two opposite ends of the spectrum. He had come here to kill the Slayer. 

And now, four years later, he refused to leave because leaving her would kill _him. _

He took a puff of his cigarette, his body shuddering at the thought of her. The rain soaked through his scalp, sending a tingling coolness down his spine. She delivered that same sensation with only the touch of her skin. 

_Don't think about her, old boy, _he thought although it was an impossible task. And as mad as he was with her now, memories of their times together were all that kept him strong, especially with his…deficiencies. He was like a neutered dog, unable to perform his natural tendencies without an electroshock current shorting through his cerebellum. Yeah, it felt good to beat up on the demonic miscreant, but he still felt incomplete. Nothing did that. Nothing but her…

Spike slammed his fist against the hood of his DeSoto. _Don't… bloody…think…about…her,_ he told himself, punctuating each word with a palm to his head. If force of will didn't drive her from his mind, maybe the pain would. Then again, it'd probably wouldn't. 

He took another puff of his cigarette and flicked the still burning fag into the damp grass. Smoking wasn't doing anything to relax him. He pursed his lips sullenly and walked away from the car. He walked toward the edge of the cliff and looked out over the town. She was down there somewhere, most likely working at that god-forsaken dump, in a feeble attempt to earn a living. She was strong but he could see through her. He always could. She held it together well enough. But she had too, for her sister's sake. And for her friends. They never did see her. He knew they wouldn't see that it was killing her to work at that place. And that was where he came in. She needed him to be there for her, just as much as he needed her. 

Spike cursed himself as he felt the furrows of concern crease his forehead. He dug in the pocket of his duster, producing a flask of whiskey. If smokes and pain wouldn't drive thoughts of the Slayer from his mind, then a belly full of alcohol might do the trick. He upended the flask, downing half of it in one long gulp. He savored its lively burn at the back of his throat before finishing it with one last heave. Its effects were like holy water to his skin, though much more enjoyable. Maybe, just maybe, if he drank enough, he would forget about her. Maybe he would be able to think about her without melting into some lovesick wanker. 

Yeah, and maybe a nice sun tan was in the cards for him. 

"Just go see her, you sodding git," he scolded himself. His frown transformed into a smile as he thought how ridiculous he must have sounded. He stretched his arms outward, and faced the rain. He laughed bitterly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did so. The saltiness of the rain cooled the sting in his throat but not his heart. Only she could cool that. But she had made it clear that she couldn't be with him. 

Spike felt an almost physical stab at his core when he thought back to that night and the words Buffy spoke. 

_I'm using you. I can't love you...And it's killing me._

She had said that to him. Well, not exactly. It would have been much easier for him to take if that were what she had said. But her weakness was the thing killing her, not her inability to love him. She wasn't used to not being strong. She couldn't stand up to him, couldn't tell him no. She refused to tell her friends about them. Everything that they were to each other was wrong, or at least that was what she had convinced herself. She couldn't love him…

Spike wiped his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. _No, I bloody will not shed a tear for her. _He hadn't then, when she had called him William, and he wouldn't now. 

"Bugger!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, heaving his empty flask off the cliff and into the foliage below. He realized too late that he had just thrown out his favorite flask. His shoulders slumped and he put his head down. The last few weeks had been hell for him. It was as if a part of him died when she had said goodbye. And though he swore that he would never set eyes on her again, he knew it was another impossibility. Despite his pain and misgivings about being around her, he owed it to her to be there when she needed him. She may be the Slayer, but it didn't hurt to have a vampire by your side fighting the good fight with you. Still, he had kept contact with Buffy to a minimum. A bit of patrolling here and there was all right. Sort of. As long as he didn't touch her, watch her move. She had a gracefulness about her when she fought that was just as arousing as her standing in a steaming shower, the droplets covering her tan skin like liquid rose petals.

"Arghhh," Spike yelled, throwing up his hands in resignation. No matter what he did or what he tried to occupy himself, his thoughts always turned to Buffy. 

He hopped on the trunk and leaned back. He was soaked to the bone. His shirt clung to him like a second skin.

"Like Buffy," he said absently. He ran his hands along his chest, remembering the places she touched and kissed and licked and bitten. He smiled at the way her tongue danced across his nipples, probingly. He exhaled at the thought of her warm flesh rubbing against him, her breasts crushed against his chest. Her heart beat hard and fast against him, and those were the only times in the last one hundred and twenty plus years that he truly felt alive. It was as if she was offering her heart to him, giving him that chance to be human for those precious moments with her. She made him complete. Of course, it never lasted. But that's how good things always were. They had a way of slipping through your hands at the most inopportune times. 

The blond vampire lay on the trunk, unfazed by the rain, oblivious to the distant thunder. His mind, now dulling slightly with the effects of the whiskey, dove in and out of thoughts of Buffy. 

__

She was the Slayer, a sick fascination of his from day one. Of course, she had been far stronger than any of the three he had killed before. But it wasn't her physical gifts that made her so strong. It was much more than that. 

From what he had read, most Slayers lived a life of seclusion usually relegated to their watcher as their only real contact with the real world. That's where Buffy was different. She was never alone. Even now, with the Englishman gone, she still had the Scoobies. The six of them together (if you counted the lil' bit), though filled with their own problems, stood together. And he knew they always would. And as long as she had them to anchor her to this world, she wouldn't give up. She would continue her fight with the passion she had shown since he had known her. And that passion was one of the reasons Spike had so perilously fallen in love with her… 

The echo of rapidly approaching thunder snapped Spike out of his thoughts. A jagged edge of lightning struck in the distance; freeze framed for a split second before dissipating. 

Spike rubbed his eyes groggily, the effects of the alcohol becoming more apparent. He decided that now would be a good time to pack it up. Not only did he feel like passing out (in what was left of his crypt) but the frequency of lightning strikes was increasing a little to quickly for his tastes. He didn't know if a vampire was a good conductor for electricity or not, but that wasn't a theory that he wanted to investigate. 

He fumbled through his pockets for the keys to the DeSoto, leaning against the door while he did so. It took him a few minutes of rooting around before brushing against the metal of the keys. A few minutes later, he finally managed to start the car. Wasting no time, he peeled out. 

The road was slick while the sides of the road were nothing but mud. _Lucky no one's around, _he thought as he raced down the hill, taking up both sides of the already narrow road. All that he wanted to do was get home and out of this car, he didn't want to wreck his only halfway decent possession (aside from his Zippo). 

"Slow down ole boy," he told himself, lifting his foot from the gas. A blinding flash of lighting filled his periphery and he swore, shielding his eyes. A deafening roar of thunder carried through the air, almost rattling his teeth. He took his eyes off the road for a minute; aimlessly searching the clouds for the moon, obviously falling to the earth, then dismissed his stupidity. 

He leaned back in the seat, on arm over the passenger's seat headrest and turned his eyes back to the road.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, at the huddled form, lying helplessly in the middle of the road. Only his vampire quickness prevented him from squishing the figure into so much road kill. His tires slid like ice on the slick ground, escorting him off the road. The mud assisted the wheels gain a bit of traction, though the DeSoto performed a full rotation before coming to a halt. 

Spike leaned back in the seat, his head aching from where it banged against the steering wheel. He searched his head for injuries and came up with a fair amount of blood. 

He wiped the blood against his black jeans and looked out for the almost speed bump. 

"Bugger," he said. The rain had picked up more, obscuring his vision. If he was going to see anything, he knew he had to go venture back into the storm and he did _not _want to leave the confines of the car unless it was for a mad dash to his crypt. But someone (at least he thought it was a someone) was lying defenseless in the road. The very least he could do was pull them to the side. It wasn't that he _cared_ or anything about them. It was just that…

"Tis for the lil' bit," he thought. It was a fact that this bluff was a teenage hangout of sorts and Dawn had come up here once or twice. It would be her luck to run into a human corpse. No, the bit didn't need to see that. _Quit being a nit and just help the poor bastard,_ a voice inside his head nagged. 

"Sod off," he said. But the voice was right. Just because he was a vampire who couldn't hurt a human (save for the one person he was helplessly in love with, of all ironies) didn't mean that he was soft. And if he wanted to help someone, it was his own choice and not some fancy-schmancy way of making Buffy proud of him. At least that's what he told himself as he got out of the car. 

The rain was coming down so hard now that he didn't even pretend to cover up. He sloshed through the mud, the liquid earth dancing and clinging happily to his boots and the end of his duster. Great, now he would have to get it clean. 

"Hey mate," he shouted as he neared the still form, "I hope you appreciate this. You're gonna be paying my cleaning bill." He reached the road and was only ten steps away from the figure. He stomped hard onto the pavement, trying his best to discard the mud stuck in clumps to the bottom of his heels. But it was pointless. He had to go back into the mud to get back into his car anyway. 

After a few unnecessary stomps, he moved forward. That's when he saw the figure move. At this distance even the rain didn't prevent him from seeing three things. One, it was indeed a person. Two, that person was naked. And three, that person was most definitely female. 

"Now what have we here?" he mused, studying the figure. He sauntered toward her, his smirk firmly in place. 

The naked woman twitched at the sound of his voice. He stopped only an inch from her and knelt beside her, his left knee creaking from his fight a few days prior. He winced but ignored the discomfort. His attention was focused on this young girl.

Her skin was a golden hue. _Lots of sun,_ he thought as his eyes trailed her body. She was petite and her hair was shaved in the back. Her bangs hung low covering her eyes and much of her nose, the strawberry blonde hair a perfect compliment to her skin. But her skin wasn't perfect. Not by a long shot. 

It was evident that she lived the hard life as deep scars were burrowed across her arms and back and legs. At the base of her neck was a small brand. He peered at it closely, trying to make out what it was. It looked like an 'E' of some sort and was definitely familiar. He reached a hand tentatively toward it. As he was closing in on it she let off a moan of pain. 

"You okay, luv?" he asked, now genuinely concerned. He put hand to her skin and drew it back suddenly. She was burning up! And that's when it hit him. Even though it was raining in droves (he was soaked),there was not a drop of precipitation upon her. In fact, as he looked closer, it seemed that the water turned to steam before his eyes. Something was wrong with her and the vampire felt compelled to help. 

Without a second thought, Spike removed his duster, covering the girl with it. He delicately put his arms under her and effortless lifted her petite form into his arms. 

"Don't worry," he coddled her as he trudged through the mud, "I'll get you to a medic." 

She moaned incessantly, as if in a delirium. If she was that hot, there was no doubt that she was out of sorts. And it wasn't the good kind that came after a nice shot o' whiskey, either.

Reaching the car, he balanced her in one hand while using the other to open the door. As he opened the door, her still dry bangs feel away from her face and he almost dropped her. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered. Spike's arms trembled from the face he looked into. It couldn't be her. But here she was, unconscious in his arms. Other than a nasty scar that rode the entire right side of her face, it looked exactly like her. But how could that be? He asked himself. He knew it wasn't her. 

The girl stirred and Spike saw her eyelashes flutter. Slowly (painfully slow for him) the girl opened her eyes. What looked back at him were the most beautiful blue-green eyes he had ever seen. He stared back at her and immediately felt the connection. There was a look of unbelieving recognition in her eyes. Her mouth moved as if to speak, but before she could, her eyes rolled back and she fell away, unconscious. 

"Buffy?" he asked the figure hesitantly. But there was no response. He shook her and called her again. "Buffy. What happened? Buffy." Nothing. 

Spike felt a part of him go cold inside at the thought of Buffy leaving him a second time. Steeling himself, he put her in the car. He rushed to the steering wheel and turned the key, and the DeSoto's engine roared to life. He peeled off, the mud graciously allowing the tires traction and he converged back onto the road. 

He heard the girl moan and looked in the rearview mirror only to be greeted by an empty backseat. He had turned his back for only a second and she was gone! He slammed on the breaks and skidded to a stop. He turned around to look at the scene with his own eyes and was stunned.

There she was, huddled underneath his duster. 

He peered back into the mirror and saw an empty backseat. But when he again looked into the backseat, there she was, clear as day. He reached over to touch her, afraid that she would disappear as she did in the mirror. His cool hand touched her burning skin and he pulled back. She was still on fire, but she didn't dissipate into thin air. It took him a moment to gauge the situation before him and even when it clicked, Spike loathed admitting it to himself. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered and looked from the mirror then back to her. His eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion, questions filling his mind. One thing was certain, though. There was no way he could take her to the hospital now. There was only one place he could think to take her. 

"Balls," he yelled, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal. He hoped someone other than Dawn was home at the Summers' residence. Once there, he would figure out what to do. All he had to do now was get there. 

And break the news to the Scoobie gang that Buffy was now a full-fledged member of the un-dead. 


	2. DoubleMeat Fun

FAMILY TIES

CHAPTER TWO

Freedom. 

That was the one word repeating over and over again in Buffy's mind as she gleefully slid her time card through its slot and dutifully replacing it right behind Sanders, Jenny. It was only 2:30 and she was actually off. How many times had she been able to say she had gotten off with even a sliver of daylight left?

_Of course,_ she thought as she walked out the door, _today wouldn't really count. _The rain had been coming down since late last night. She had staked two vamps and deep-fried a piggy-like demon in its own sweat (don't ask) and had come home drenched. Why couldn't things ever work out for her? Just one day was all she wanted. Just one day to sit outside, laying in the grass, welcoming the warm pulse of the sun against her skin. 

She sighed at the fleeting memory. It had been too long since she had done that. Doublemeat employee by day; Slayer by night. _Go to work and then directly to the slayage, do not pass home,_ she told herself. There wasn't too much to her life she looked forward to. Spending time with Dawn and Willow was at the top of the list. Then there was also that throbbing feel of him inside of her…

"I am _so _not going there," she said aloud and forced herself to walk from under the awning and into the rain. She gasped as the cool drops sneaked under her windbreaker. The chills that ran across her skin were very much welcomed. Anything was better for her than thinking about him. 

"Don't think about the evil, bloodsucking dead guy. Don't think about the evil, bloodsucking dead guy," she told herself as she started her walk home. She hadn't taken ten steps and her feet were soaked. At least the cool water soothed her aching feet. 

"Some Slayer," she said, mocking herself. "She can fight the forces of evil, save the world from Armageddon and even die twice. But make her stand for eight hours straight and what do you have?" She let the thought slide. She knew what was left but didn't want to admit it. 

A wreck. That's what she was and though she was able to admit it at times, she was more likely to deny it. She wondered if stubbornness was a Slayer trait. Nope. That was a one hundred percent Summers gene. 

Revello Drive was about a twenty-minute walk from Doublemeat Palace. But it was going to be more like a forty-minute trek in this weather. She had walked only two blocks and the liquid chill of the rain had managed to coat every part of her body. 

"I know one place it hasn't reached," the voice said. Buffy whirled around, her green eyes pulsating with fear. The voice sounded an awful lot like Spike. But it couldn't have been Spike. He was the last person she wanted to see, though in her mind, he was first in line. She was definitely at the breaking point if Spike's voice was popping up in her head. 

"Get a grip, B," she told herself and rolled her eyes at the use of Faith's ever so affectionate nickname for her. Buffy shook her head in disgust. Not at the thought of the second slayer but because she was so flustered. She could blame it on anything she wanted, but the truth was, Spike was inside her in a way that no one had ever been. And that had been before he had fallen in love with her. 

Buffy shivered at the thought of it. Spike? In love with her? There was no denying it. She couldn't dismiss it as some trivial demon-smitten lust. No, there was much more to what was in his un-beating heart than that. She saw it in everything she did. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her, the things he did for her. He had nearly gotten himself killed with Glory for the sake of protecting Dawn. For her. There was nothing he would not do for his Slayer. 

'His Slayer'. She couldn't think of herself as his. She wouldn't. He didn't have a soul…

_Yet he loves you._

He was an evil, malevolent creature of the night…

_Though he fights by your side._

He only does that to get lucky…

_Yet he held the Scoobies together when you were gone. _

He…he's…

Buffy finally gave up. She had run out of excuses. For everything wrong with Spike, there was something equally good thing righting that wrong. Was Spike a vampire? Yes. Was he soulless? Yes. Was he evil? If she asked herself that question a few months ago, the answer would have been a resounding yes. But now, she wasn't so sure. All the things he did, all the times he could have walked away and he never did. Even when he had declared him 'beneath' her, he was there that same night when she was falling to pieces. She was as vulnerable as she had ever been and yet he had only sat by her, silently, while she cried. He never said a word about that night since. She could accredit only a fraction of his reformed behavior to the chip. It only caused him pain when he desired to hurt a human _physically_. It did nothing to curb his words, which were often more scathing than his formidable fists. It did not force him to stay by their sides fighting the good fight. But still, she was afraid.

Though she dared not speak it aloud, Buffy wanted nothing more than for Spike to be truly reformed. She did not deny his inherently evil disposition. He was not like Angel; he did not have a soul. If Spike could somehow overcome his preternatural instincts toward evil, then his transformation would be even greater. But she would never know, unless the chip was removed. And despite her longing for him to change, she did not want his hands untied, so to speak. It was true that he could harm her and had only done so to prove a point, Buffy could live with that unpredictable nature as long as it was directed toward her. Maybe that's why she felt so alive with him, never letting down her guard. That uneasiness she had always felt toward him was even more pronounced now, and she was ashamed to be attracted because of such base emotions. 

However, if he did become 'de-chipped', could she really trust him around others? It wasn't Dawn that she worried him hurting (he loved his 'lil bit' like a sister) nor the Scoobies (though Xander would undoubtedly receive a major beat-down). They were all an extension of who Buffy was and he would never do anything to jeopardize her. But what about those who were not as lucky to be a part of the Slayer's life, what then? Would it be Angel all over again? 

Buffy grew cold at the thought and wrapped her arms tightly around her body. Talk about the potential of opening up a healing wound. No, killing your boyfriend and staying sane afterwards was a one-time deal. She couldn't…

She stopped in her tracks. _I did **not **just qualify Spike as my boyfriend…Did I? _Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation. She was cursed. Okay, so maybe not cursed, but what was the deal? Every time she tried **not **to think about Spike, she did. And when she **did **want to think about him, he was never there. Calculating the odds, she figured that he should be rolling by right…about…now. 

"Seeing him is most definitely not what I need right now," she told herself. "Besides," she added, "why would he want to see me right now?"

The Slayer sank to the ground at the thought of their last real conversation. 

_I am being weak and selfish,_ she had told him. _I'm not complaining, _he replied, advancing on her. 

_And its killing me…_those four little words had stopped the vampire in his tracks. She could see the hurt and pain in his eyes and for a moment, she had wanted to take all the bad things she had said and done to him away. She would have done almost anything (no, there was no almost to it) to relieve his aching heart. The tears had welled up in his eyes when she had told him goodbye and she didn't stick around to see him cry. She had to be strong and if she had seen tears run down Spike's cheeks that night, well, there wasn't that much strength in the world. 

She absently wiped at the water running down her face and fought back tears that threatened to tear from her eyes. _Be strong, Buffy, _she told herself. How did she always seem to get into these situations? But she could have asked the same thing of Spike as well. She chuckled at his brazen admittance to being 'Love's bitch', as he so eloquently put it. But her smile quickly faded. Here he was, an undead creature that could love with zest most humans could not fathom. He was an enigma. But she wanted him just the same. 

Not liking where her thoughts were going, Buffy glanced down at her watch, covering it with her free hand to see the time. 2:42. At this pace, she'd get home at around 3:10. She'd have about half an hour after that before Dawn was out of school. It made Buffy smile to know that she would be home, waiting for her sister. She couldn't remember the last time she and Dawn had done something together. She and Willow had planned to surprise Dawn and take her little sis out for a change. Dawn would like that and hopefully a little attention would stay her compulsion to steal or make wishes to any more vengeance demons. 

Buffy peered down both sides of the street on the off chance that she would see someone driving by that she knew. That was doubtful since most people were still at work (_Thank God I'm not one of 'em) _and those that weren't had obviously decided that staying in was the best course of action for the day. If it weren't for her plans to take Dawn out, she would have agreed with the staying in thingie. 

_And whispering the nasties…_

Buffy covered her face at her continually sordid thoughts of Spike. Why, why, why? she asked herself repeatedly and had yet to receive a satisfactory answer. What was it with Spike that made her so crazy? She was so glad that he wasn't here now…

Buffy looked behind her on a whim and stopped in her tracks as she spotted a black car in the distance. It looked familiar, but it was so far away, she dismissed it as wishful thinking. She continued walking, turning back every few steps on the fast approaching vehicle. Whoever it was, evidently had some place to be. She was about to turn inward to her thoughts again when she turned and caught the vehicle's tinted windows. And trademark bumper…

"You have got to be kidding me," she said in disbelief, finally identifying the car. There was no doubt about it now. Buffy stopped completely and half turned to the speeding car. "Of all the things I didn't need," she complained as the De Soto closed in on her. "I cannot deal with this right now," she told herself. She pulled the hood of her windbreaker as far over her face as it would allow and stuffed her hands in her pocket. She concentrated on her drenched sneakers, glancing back every few steps. 

"He's sure not slowing down," she observed as the De Soto was now within half a block. There was no way that he wasn't going to see her. "Might as well get out the rain," she conceded and hesitantly moved closer to the sidewalk. Still, she would only make a move if he said something to her. And the way he was moving didn't seem like he…

The De Soto flew past her with all the sound a fury of a stock car in need of a tune-up. It never slowed and Buffy was left in its wake. Unbeknownst to her, she had decided to stop in front of a man-sized puddle with what looked like gallons of water filling it. As the De Soto passed her, the puddle was no more. Unfortunately for the Slayer, the water had introduced itself to her head-on. 

She held her arms out to her sides in incredulity. It was in part to her becoming even more soaked than she had thought possible after the tidal wave of rainwater had smashed into her. Irritation and anger suspended her disbelief.

_How dare he?_ She thought, incredulously. She looked down the street and caught the break lights of the De Soto flash on before fishtailing around the corner, disappearing from her sight. 

"You are _so _many bits of dust!" she shouted to the departed car and with balled fists, Buffy continued her not-so-short walk home. 


	3. Arrival

FAMILY TIES 3

CHAPTER 3

The blackness that had been before him had been total and complete. It had been unlike anything he had ever experienced, every time a new experience. And as quickly as it had been there, it was gone.The pain, however, had not disappeared. In fact, once he had been released from the void, it had intensified to a level that even he was barely able to withstand. 

As he lay on the wet ground, aside from the pain, only one thought surfaced clearly in his daze.

_What a rush!_

He had traveled through portals like this before and each time he emerged, the agony ripped through his undead veins, curling him into a fetal position not unlike a helpless child. It always took a few moments for him to shake off the after effects but it didn't matter. It was doubtful anyone was around to take advantage of his temporary incapacitation. But it didn't matter. All that mattered now was the litany of pain. His skin was on fire, but he liked it. It made him feel alive in ways that nothing else could. This was the only time the warmth of his skin felt remotely human. And despite the cruelty of his mind or the evil within his heart, still he longed to feel alive. But like all things good, it wouldn't last. 

He felt the sting of rain as it coated his naked arms. He smiled at the sizzle of the water as it boiled along his skin. It reminded him of so many nights torturing those that dare challenge His master and the Brotherhood. Especially the nights spent torturing her.

He sighed at the thought of the Slayer. The way she screamed when he ran his claws up and down her body. Or the way she begged him to stop when he did…other things. He had been the one that had defeated her and his Master had rewarded him to do with her as he wished, so long as he kept her alive. 

He staggered to his feet, his strength finally returning. Not many had the strength to survive the Portal. He flexed his arms, feeling his preternatural power once again beginning to course through every cell of his body. Aside from his Master, he was the most powerful in the Brotherhood. But as far as sheer physical prowess, not even his Master was comparable. And the Slayer? Well, he had already conquered that particular challenge. 

He took a tentative step forward, swooning as he did so. It only confirmed his thoughts that everyone couldn't survive the slide through the Portal. Of course, the Master was working diligently to correct that little hurdle. 

The traveler peered up at the sky. The gray clouds stretched across the valley, hindering any attempts by the sun to penetrate into the town below. 

_Lucky, _he thought to himself. If the sun was out…well let's just say he didn't feel like becoming a scorched skeleton just yet. 

He craned his neck from left to right, working all the kinks out. Though he still felt a twinge of sluggishness within his muscles, the traveler wasn't worried. It wasn't as if there was anyone here whom he had to fear.

_Never underestimate those that have a cause…_the words of his Master echoed in his mind. He scoffed at the idea. Not even the Slayer was as strong as he and his Master had subjugated the greatest of the demon races, so what did he have to be cautious about? Still, heeding the Master's words was always the best course of action. 

"Slayer," he called in a deep, raspy voice, " come out, come out where ever you are." He rarely had time for levity (except for his time in the prisons, and with the Slayer, of course), and what with the Master not in the vicinity…

He spotted the couple about a hundred yards away. They were molded together and the traveler could scarcely see a sliver of space between them. They were hugged up against a giant tree, her back against it. From the look of things, they were anything but concerned with the rain that beat down upon them, though the tree did shield them from a good deal of nature's wrath. Just as the large oak would shield prying eyes from his. 

"The Slayer can wait," he told himself, as he crept toward the unaware couple. He did have a job to do but the Slayer wasn't going anywhere. Might as well have a little fun while he could. 

****

"Thanks, Marc," Willow said into the partially rolled down window, a newspaper shielding her from the steady rain. "Call me if you wanna do the study thingie before the test."

"Sure thing, Will," he said and pulled off. Willow waved one more time before jogging up the steps and into sanctuary from the rain. She leaned against the cool wood of the door and sighed. 

_Home at last,_ she thought before hanging her coat on the rack to the left of the door. She did not call out to anyone since it was only ten til three. Dawn wouldn't be getting out of school for another fifty minutes and Buffy…well, she was probably on her way home by now. 

Willow's first stop was the kitchen. She wasn't used to the house being this empty. It was a rare occurrence for the ex-Wicca to come straight home from class. Her first stop had usually been the Magic Box where the gang would get together for a running commentary of the latest 'creature feature'. But since the Sunnydale demon population was on a hiatus of sorts, they had decided they could take one day off. Besides, Buffy had said that she was going to be home early today and the two best friends could go out on the town with Dawnie. They all needed it. Willow knew that she and her best friend needed something to alleviate the pressure they all were under. It had been a rough year for the Scoobies. What with Glory, Joyce's death followed by Buffy's, it hadn't been rainbows and smiley faces for awhile. 

Bouncing up the steps, Willow was cheered by the upcoming nuptials of Xander and Anya. _Finally something has gone right for us, _she thought with a tinge of lament in her upbeat attitude toward the wedding. She was happy for both Anya and her oldest friend, but there was a hint of envy and jealousy as she looked at the two. The first had been the fact that, unlike her and Tara, Xander and his ex-demon fiancé had stayed together through it all. _I guess that's what happens when partners take an equal part in the relationship, _she thought sullenly as she flopped on her bed. But it wasn't Tara's fault that they had broken up and that was what Willow hated the most about her situation; she was the one to blame. 

She brushed aside thoughts of Tara (she would undoubtedly focus on her before her eyes closed for the night, as always) and returned to her other unresolved feelings toward the wedding. Despite the fact that she loved Tara with all her heart and that she was on the other team, a distant part of her couldn't help but feel sad that she wasn't the woman to say 'I do' at the altar with Xander. 

Willow laid on her bed and laughed at the speckle of jealousy toward Anya. Though she'd never admit to feeling this way to anyone (it wasn't that big of a deal) but part of her longed for the days when it was she and Xander roughing it. Even when Buffy came along, she fit with them like the remaining piece of the puzzle. The three amigos, they were. 

_Guess things just don't always work out like you expect 'em to,_ she thought, thrumming her fingers against her stomach. That's how life was, though. You never knew what surprises it had in store for you…

Willow's thoughts were interrupted when she heard a door crash open downstairs. She shot up, her eyes large with apprehension.

"Buffy?" she called tentatively. She hesitantly walked toward the hall, her hands fidgeting at her sides. "Dawnie?" She was almost at the foot of the steps when she saw a figure race up the steps in long strides. She screamed and turned to run. But the figure was too fast and barreled into her. Limbs and wet clothing tangled in a mess as Willow struggled to break free of the intruder's grip. She was terrified as she felt the iron grip of the intruder clasp her shoulders. She shut her eyes tightly, not wanting to see the end…

"Bloody hell, Red, will you calm down," came a familiar British voice. 

Still not believing her senses, Willow slowly opened one eye, just enough to make out the intruder. Even though she couldn't see clearly with her half open eye, the blonde matte of hair plastered to the intruder's head was a welcomed sight. 

"Spike!" she said, slapping the vampire in the shoulder. He was soaked from head to toe and that had helped Willow curb her first reaction to strangle him with a hug, when she found out it was only him. "What are you trying to do here? Is there some sort of tackle hide-and-seek going on that I don't know about?" she finished, her thin eyebrows curled in a scowl. Her mild frustration was softened and replaced with concern when she saw the seriousness in the blonde vampire's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly, not knowing if she really wanted to know the answer. Spike didn't answer but his eyes floated over to the body Willow had failed to see. 

She jumped back with a yelp, almost falling into Spike's arm. "God, Spike, what is that? Who is that? What happened to her?" Were it not for the current situation, Willow's bewilderment would have been quite entertaining. Willow always seemed to be the chipper one of the group with her soft-spoken support and she was not one to judge either. He had to admit he did kind of like the ex-Wicca. 

Brushing the thoughts aside, he stood and helped Willow to her feet. He picked the body up, still wrapped in his duster. 

"Red," he said, a stern look crossing his face, "I'm gonna need you to get a few supplies for me."

"But who…" 

"Don't worry about that," he interrupted, a little too harshly. Willow stood, taking a step back from him and deliberately softened his look. "I didn't mean to snap, but we need to hurry," the figure moaned as if to back Spike's sentiments. 

"What do you need?" Willow asked, her resolute face returning. That was another thing about Willow. Despite any internal hysterics that were shooting off in her head, you could always count on her to get it together enough to get through the situation. Spike was glad to know that her dangerous tryst to the dark side hadn't taken that from her. 

"Towels, ice, whatever else you can find. I'm taking her to her room," he began to walk to Buffy's room before turning toward Willow, "and you may want to call your mate, Tara. We may need magic to figure out what the bloody hell happened to her."

Willow wanted to ask more but resisted the urge. Instead, she ran to the refrigerator for an ice pack and the pantry for the rest of the supplies. It only took her a few minutes to get the meds. On the way back to Spike, she stopped in her room and made the call to Tara. Later, she would compliment herself for denoting the urgency to her ex without coming across as hysterical. She made her way to Buffy's room where Spike was tucking the mysterious figure under the covers. 

"I got the supplies you wanted," she said, sitting them down on Buffy's nightstand, "and Tara will be here in a few minutes." Spike remained silent, hovering over the figure, blocking Willow's view. And that's when it came back to her. 

In all the confusion she had forgotten, but Spike had said he was taking the figure to her room.

"Spike," she said timidly. The vampire turned to face her and Willow was afraid. She had seen that look on his face once before. She had paid it no attention then, since she, too, was in such pain. 

Losing your best friend had a way of doing that to a person. 

Spike met her eyes, searchingly. "Will," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and she felt that he was bracing her for a sharp blow. 

_I'm gonna take her to her room. _Spike's earlier comments rang into her ears and Willow was oblivious to what he was now saying. 

"You hear me, Red?" The vampire shook Willow and her eyes returned to his. The same look of pain and fear glazed over in his marvelously blue eyes. "Now be strong, luv, you hear?" Willow absently nodded her head and the vampire's strong hands dropped from her shoulders. He stepped to the side but his eyes remained on the ex-Wicca. Willow walked forward tentatively. The covers have been drawn over the figure and the woman's (she can now see that it is a woman) hair shielded any view of her face. 

"Is she…?" Willow said, halfway to herself and partially to Spike. The vampire sighed and returned "I don't know, luv," in a barely audible whisper. 

"Who is she?" Willow asked, afraid to move the woman's damp bangs from her face, lest she disturb the unconscious stranger. Spike remained silent, wanting Willow to find out on her own accord. 

Garnering some courage, partially at the behest of the vampire's silence, Willow reached out to the woman. Her hands trembled for no apparent reason. The shape of the woman's face was undoubtedly familiar and Willow had decided that it was a mere coincidence. It couldn't be her. She stopped her hand inches from the woman's face, the heat coming from the unconscious woman surprising her. Willow hesitated, unsure she wanted to continue and turned to Spike for support. The blonde vampire gave her a small nod of encouragement. Willow turned back to the woman in time to see her start to move. Willow drew her hand back, as if afraid that the woman would bite it off. 

After a few tense moments of mild shakings and low moans, the woman's form stilled again. Determination now set in, Willow's hand descended down with less trepidation. She brushed the damp strawberry blond bangs of the woman away and instantly she recoiled. 

"Whoa, luv," Spike said as Willow back peddled into his arms. He knew this would be Red's reaction. He was going to tell her at first but decided that seeing was the proverbial believing. Plus, she would be less likely to blame him for it as well. 

A few minutes passed before Willow regained her composure. She absently flopped onto the bed, her face a twist of all the emotions Spike himself felt. 

He sat down next to her and patted her shoulder in comfort. 

"What happened to her? She looks so different," she said, staring a hole into the wet carpet. 

"I don't know…" he began but is interrupted when Willow shoots up from the bed. 

"This can't be her. This can't be Buffy," Willow shouted through unshed tears. 

"Willow," Spike consoled, rising to his feet, "You need to settle down," his strong hands gripped her shoulders again, the steel gaze in his eyes never losing contact with hers. "I need you…no, Buffy needs you to be on your game, all right?" He received a slight nod. "Now, we don't know what happened and we won't speculate just yet. Now I need you to be calm, Red. Can you do that for me?" She nodded more forcefully though a single tear escapes her eye. "Now we need to get one of those ice packs you people fancy so much after a rhubarb and put it on her. She is bloody hot."

"We only had one in the fridge," she said putting the ice pack on her friend's forehead. The strength and lucidity of her mind and body slowly returned to her. 

"Bloody hell," Spike swore, "We're gonna need a lot more than that."

"What are we doing? We need to get her to a hospital."

"No," he said, a little too forcefully. Willow looked at him, perplexed.

"Spike, why don't you want us to take Buffy to the hospital?"

Spike paced the room, unable to look at Willow. He knew he had to tell her, but he didn't know what to say or how to say it. He didn't think that 'Oh by the way, did I mention Buffy was a vampire' would go over too well. 

Quite perceptive in her own right, Willow knew there was something Spike wasn't telling her. The vampire paced the room, fidgeting with his Zippo, a Marlboro hung from his thin lips but he had yet to light it. Though she wanted to know what was going as much as the next Scoobie, something inside her kept her at bay from interrupting Spike's nervous pacing. It wasn't that she was afraid of his reproach (he'd always been somewhat civil to her) but rather what he would say about Buffy. And that was another thing. This couldn't be Buffy.

As Willow turned to look at the still form, her mind was racing as to what she was looking at. It sure as hell looked like Buffy and her body frame was exceptionally similar. Other than the spiffy haircut and the jagged scar down the side of her face, everything pretty much was Buffy. But it was impossible. Buffy had been at work since seven and that scar; wasn't it nasty! And that's when Willow breathed a sigh of relief. 

"It's not her," she said, her voice confident despite her outward appearance. Spike stopped pacing and clicked the Zippo shut. 

"Come again, Red?"

"It's not her," she said again, standing up. She took the ice pack she had picked up from the fridge and placed it on the feverish head of the Buffy-look alike. "It can't be," she continued, "I mean look at that scar she has; unless she hid it under like a goober of make-up, there is no way she could have gotten it since I've last seen her."

"How long has that been?" Spike asked, unconvinced.

"Oh, about eight hours ago," she replied, feeling better with each second that this girl was not her best friend.

"Right," Spike said. Willow was right. Not even the Slayer could heal such a nasty cut in that short a timeframe. But Spike would have never known. It had been nearly a week since he had last laid eyes on his Slayer. No, he said to himself. She wasn't his anymore. Whatever that soldier boy had poisoned her mind with had seen to that. _The stupid git, _Spike thought to himself in disgust. Leave it up to good ol' Captain Cardboard to screw up the best thing that had ever come his way. He knew the git had been fuming when he saw his good little girl Buffy shacked up in a crypt with the Big Bad. It was no doubt that in his jealousy, he cooked up a whopper of a soliloquy in order to change his love's mind about their little trysts. If he had a chance to…

"Hello, Spike," Willow said in exasperation, "Talking here." Spike looked at her as if she had a third eye on her forehead, before snapping back to reality. He had almost forgotten that he wasn't alone. As he was about to reply, they heard the door open downstairs. 

"Hello? Willow?" was the tentative call. 

"Tara," Willow called as she ran to the hall, "We're up here, in Buffy's room." 

It only took a minute for the Wicca to get up the steps and into the room. Her arms were full with books on healing and a bag full of magic goodies. She put her stuff down on the nearest chair, falling into a quick embrace with Willow.

"Spike," she said, greeting the vampire with a shy smile. He smiled back, only to be cordial. There was something about Willow's lover the past few weeks that bothered him. She had gone out of her way a little too often for his tastes in being overly friendly and talkative toward him. If he didn't know any better, he would swear on his un-life that she knew something…

"Oh my god," Tara said, again interrupting his thoughts, "Buffy." Willow put a hand on her former lover's shoulder before speaking.

"No, Tara, it's OK. This is not Buffy. I don't know who she is," she said when Tara looked at her with that 'what are you talking about' look. "But it can't be Buffy. Look. Look at that huge scar on her face. I saw Buffy just this morning and that scar is way to bad for her to have gotten it this morning and healed it this quickly…"

"Her hair…" 

"And no way would Buffy style her hair like that. It's so…eighties." Tara looked at Willow and smiled, still unsure. 

"So what happened to her?" 

"I don't know. Spike brought her in. He hasn't filled me in on what happened yet. Spike?" 

The vampire had relegated himself in the corner while the two women conversed. His head was beginning to make him pay for drinking so much whiskey. He massaged his temples in an attempt to fend off the coming hangover before it began screaming in his skull. 

"Bloody hell. Are you sure it's not the Slayer?" he asked walking over to the bed. "I could have sworn it smelled like her." And it had; though he hadn't picked up the scent until she was in his car. 

"Uh, yeah, I am. The only thing I don't know is who she is and why she looks so much like Buffy," she paused, "well, that's two things, actually."

Spike sat on the bed to get a closer look at the girl. It may have been the liquor talking, but there had been no doubt in his mind that this was Buffy. Of course, he had been in a hurry, and the rain was this side of torrential. But even now, she smelled like his Goldilocks. Except for…

"You're right," he said after a few moments of contemplation, "this isn't the Slayer. Although her scent is remarkably similar." He looked back at the two women, whose creased brows denote their confusion. "Bugger," he said, annoyed. "How did you people ever become anything but food for us?" He sighed and continued. "Look, a person's scent is their own unique thing. Even with all the bloody soaps and shampoos you use, you still have that core smell. It's like a fingerprint," he furrowed his own brow, "well, not exactly. But you get the drift, don't you? That every person has there own distinct smell?"

The women shook their heads in uncertain acknowledgment of Spike's explanation. They stared at one another in silence before Willow raised her hand timidly. 

"Uh, Red. We're not in school, ya know?"

She bashfully put her hand down at her side. "Sorry. But if everyone has their own distinct smell, then why did she smell so much like Buffy to you?"

Spike contemplated his response for a moment. "Neither of you two have been playing with alternate worlds or anything like that have you?" They both gave him a look of offense and he decided to drop it. "Well, the thing is, is that it's kind of like blood. You know, if you drain two sisters, you can scarcely tell the difference between 'em. That reminds me about these twins I met in New York in the seventies. They…" he stopped when he saw looks of annoyance and disgust creep across their faces. "Right, I guess you wouldn't be wanting to hear that now would you. Anyway, just like blood properties of relatives are similar, the same goes for scent as well. You follow?"

"So are you trying to say that this is Buffy's long lost twin or something?" Tara asked, mildly amused.

"Hey," the vampire replied, somewhat offended, "I don't make the rules, now do I? Besides, it's not that crazy."

"Oh yeah, right Spike. Buffy forgot to mention that she had a twin sister with a bad scar on her face and eighties hair."

"What about the Nibblet?" he retorted in that smug 'prove me wrong on _that_' tone. Everyone had thought Dawn was Buffy's fourteen-year-old sister. But she had turned out to be a millenium old key made in the form of a sister for the Slayer to protect. 

"Well, he's got a point," Willow conceded. "But all that aside, we still have to find out what's wrong with her."

Spike didn't reply but nodded in agreement. He turned his attention back to the still form of Buffy…no, it wasn't her, thank the stars. Still, that didn't alleviate them from helping her. Spike removed the ice pack from the girl's forehead and put his palm to her skin. She was still hot, but the fever had gone down significantly. He was about to tell that to Red and her lady when the girl's eyes shot open. 

Everyone in the room gasped and Spike jerked his hand away from her. She sat up and the covers fell from her, exposing her naked breasts. She was not in enough shock not to notice and grabbed the covers, pulling them up to her chin. Fear set in her large eyes and again Spike could not believe that this wasn't Buffy. She looked from Willow to Tara to Spike and back again. Spike saw a vague look of recognition when she looked at each one but finally her gaze settled on him. But there was no vague recognition when she looked at him. Her eyes bulged as she stared at him. No one in the room spoke, afraid of scaring her. She nervously reached out her left hand, the right still holding up the covers. Her fingertips touched the hollow of Spike's jaw. She traced her fingers over his face and a definitive look of disbelief looked back at him. Her eyes began to water but she refused to close them. Finally, without warning, she lunged for Spike. He was so startled that he had no chance to move but it didn't matter, as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, oblivious that the covers had again abandoned her. 

"It's you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I can't believe it's you. I saw her kill you."

Spike said nothing and did not want to move. It felt so good to feel her arms around him. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was something déjà vu –ish about her. He didn't know what it was but he didn't dwell on it. All he knew was that this girl's arms around him made him calm. He could almost hear her tears pelting his waterlogged shirt and he tried to comfort her with pats on the back, cooing to her softly. It only took a moment of cooing before she burst into uncontrollable sobs. And for what it was worth, he held her. 


	4. A Familiar Face

CHAPTER 4

The room had been eerily quiet for the last five minutes, save for the wracked sobs of the girl as she clung to Spike. The desperation in her arms was endearing yet frightening in its hysteria. It was as if she knew that letting go would banish her into an unconscionable darkness forever. To his credit, Spike had maintained a semblance of patience, though his own mind was racing with unanswered questions. Where did this girl come from? Why did she look and feel so much like the slayer? And above all, why did he have the burning desire to protect the stranger with his life? 

The shock of what lay before them had made Willow lose all train of thought. The vigor with which the girl held onto Spike didn't look just like someone grateful of being saved. No. There was a frantic love in the girl's embrace that made the ex-witch uncomfortable. This petite girl that looked so much like her best friend clung to Spike as if he was the end all-be all of her existence. The same Spike that had once made it his goal to kill his third slayer. True, he had changed greatly since then, had his transformation been that severe? He had said, no shown that he was capable of love. As twisted as it was, he had fallen hard for his mortal enemy he had once sworn to kill. And then there had been his brotherly love of Dawn. He had changed more than thought possible. Although she did like him, Willow seriously doubted she would ever throw herself into his protective embrace. Save for Dawn, none of them would.

Tara, though surprised, was not as speechless as her former lover was. They all knew Spike had changed but none of the Scoobies truly gauged the depths of his progression from killer to protector. They all knew of his unwavering dedication to Dawn. But only Tara was privy to his secret trysts with Buffy. From that knowledge, she had surmised that his love for the slayer had brought far more of William to the surface than in any time in his un-life.

Afraid of disturbing the mysterious reunion, Tara grabbed Willow by the elbow, escorting her into the hallway. 

"Th…that's definitely Spike, right?" the Wicca asked her former lover, almost in awe. Even knowing what she did, the scene before them had convinced Tara that Spike may have been on the verge of doing the impossible: gaining redemption without the luxury of having a soul. 

"Yep. One hundred percent Spike," Willow replied and then mock-scowled, "with his 'bloody hell's' and 'bollocks' all in place." Tara smiled and for a moment, Willow allowed herself to forget that they were no longer together. Tara's smile was more beautiful than any sunrise. It put her in the mood that an innocent's child laughter did. Except, with Tara's smile, Willow's behavior usually fell by the wayside of innocent. 

"And," Tara said, her hands gripping Willow's delicate fingers, "don't forget 'sodding' this and 'nancy-boy' that." They giggled like schoolgirls privy to some great secret. But the levity was what they needed and they both felt the tension bleed from their muscles as their minds again focused on the scene before them. 

"This is so weird," Willow whispered. "I mean, she looks so much like Buffy. They could be identical twins."

"Oh no. Do…do you think that it's a Buffy from another dimension, like the vampire Willow you told me about?" Willow cringed at the thought of her encounter a couple years ago with…with herself. That had been an experience to say the least. Willow had been mortified at seeing, well, herself decked out in leather and radiating that S & M smile. And the goodbye feel-age at the end…well, that must have been a portent of things to come for the slight redhead. 

"Well, I guess it could be. I don't know. I guess we have to wait until Spike's little bonding moment is over before we make our next move."

"I…I guess you're right. So, do you think this is Scoobie time?" Tara asked, fiddling her fingers.

Willow thought for a moment. Anya was no doubt getting her jollies fondling her capital gains at the Magic Box and Xander was probably at work. Though Willow didn't know how long that would be considering the rain. Buffy should have been home by now and Dawn…

"Dawn," Willow said, and winced, hoping her zest didn't disturb the pair on the bed. 

"Dawn? Doesn't she get out of school soon?"

"Yeah," Willow said, looking at her watch, "in about forty-five minutes or so."

"I can go get her."

"Could you? And before you get her, maybe you can stop by the Magic Box and fill Anya in."

"I'll leave now," Tara hesitated before finishing, "you wanna come?"

Willow's eyes gleamed at the suggestion and she hoped Tara didn't see it. She knew she had screwed things up when it came to Tara and the last thing she wanted to do was push lest things get even more strained. 

"I better stay here and wait for Buffy, you know? I don't know how she would like it that Spike was all cozy in her bed with…well, with her."

"You think she'd think they were playing checkers and get jealous?" Tara joked. Willow laughed, remembering the Buffy-Bot ordeal last year. 

"I know I definitely need to stay here, then." They both smiled at the prospect of Buffy catching her number one fan in a sex-bot's embrace. No, that wouldn't be too good and maybe the Slayer would finally stake Spike for good. "Stay here, preserve the peace," Willow added, almost to herself. 

"And I'll look for some books on alternate dimensions, just in case." 

"Okay," Willow said and before she knew it, she landed a sweet kiss on Tara's cheek, adding "be careful," before realizing what she had done. The former lovers eyed one another uneasily. Of all the things _not _needed. "Tara, I…" Willow stammered before Tara silenced her with a pat on the cheek.

"I will be," she said and smiled longingly at the red head before walking down the steps and out the door. 

"Real smooth, Rosenberg," she reprimanded herself. It had seemed like ages since her lips had touched the soft flesh of her one time girlfriend. It had felt wonderful but at the same time a burgeoning angst crept up within her. What if that one kiss set their reconciliation back? What if Tara didn't want to see her again? What if …

Willow hushed her doubts, knowing that although it may not have been prudent Tara did not disapprove. Still, she had to be a tad bit careful when it came to Tara. It was evident that she was slowly regaining her trust in Willow, but trust was such a fragile thing. It took time to solidify into a solid foundation and yet one action could crumble it into so many bits of broken memories. 

The red headed ex-Wicca sighed and walked back into the room. She was being selfish. There were things more important than her relationship with Tara that needed to be resolved first. She shook her head, still not believing the scene before her. Spike, of all people, held onto by this stranger as if he was her salvation. It wasn't that she didn't like Spike. Far from it, in fact. It wasn't just his blistering personality but she had seen firsthand the good he was capable of. He had been the surrogate slayer in Buffy's absence. Were it not for him, Sunnydale would have truly turned into Sunny Hell. And despite all of his unselfish deeds, he was still treated like an outsider. Willow didn't treat him bad but she wasn't quick to rally at his side either, following a Xander or Giles tirade of how they still shouldn't trust him. How he must have felt, not accepted by them. Only Dawn looked at Spike for what he was now and not what he had done in the past. 

Willow hung her head in shame. True, he was a vampire who had no soul, but how much did a soul matter in the grand scheme of things? From Giles' explanations, all a soul did was alleviate one from feelings of guilt and remorse. But it took only a glance in the papers to see that having a soul did nothing to curb one's potential for monstrous acts. Sometimes when she looked at Spike, past his haughty attitude and sardonic remarks, she saw a being screaming for acceptance. His only wish, aside from Buffy's love, was to be judged on what he did in the now, not what he had done in the past. 

As she looked at the girl, her arms steadfast around the vampire's neck, a single tear escaped Willow's eye, cascading down her cheek and to her boots. Despite Willow's deceptions, Tara didn't hate her. She still loved her and though she had to get over the things that Willow had done to her, she was still giving Willow a chance to make amends. Though she didn't feel deserving of that chance, it was being given nonetheless. Her mind wandered to something Giles had once told Buffy about forgiveness. It wasn't something given because someone deserved it. Forgiveness was given because the person needed it. 

She looked sadly at Spike and the pain he had caused. Though he didn't have a soul and was theoretically guiltless, Willow begged to differ. She had seen him virtually every night after Buffy's death and despite his false bravado she saw the torment he was putting himself through. Thinking of that time, months ago, the red head came to a decision. No longer would she hold Spike's past atrocities against him. She would judge him on what he did from now on. Surely, he deserved that. 

__

I just hope the others can do the same, she thought to herself. She still had her doubts about her resolution, but if she had seen the face of the once Big Bad, holding the grieving stranger, there would have been no doubts in her mind whatsoever. 

_I could always drop another building on him, _Buffy though venomously. The Slayer was none happy with her Splash Mountain audition twenty minutes ago and her sullen mood was going nowhere as long as the rain continued to inundate her already overly saturated form. And though she knew it was wrong, every ounce of her displeasure was centered on a particularly sarcastic, bleached blonde, sexy vampire. 

Buffy shivered at that last thought. Despite her mounting frustrations and an overwhelming desire to introduce Spike to the wrong end of a number two pencil, she always ended up thinking about him naked. The way his muscles contracted and hardened (just like other parts of him) at the touch of her. Or the way the candlelight or moonlight highlighted his pale skin as he rhythmically moved against her, inside of her. 

"That is _so _over," Buffy said, admonishing her straying thoughts. What was it about him that made her like this? She could scarcely retain a lucid thought when it came to him unless it detailed the thrust of his hips into her. The way he made her feel, both inside and out was…incredible. No. Incredible wasn't a strong enough word to describe what Buffy felt when she was lost in Spike's embrace. It was all she wanted and when he was not around, it was all she yearned for. 

_But it's over, Summers. You saw to that yourself,_ she thought inwardly. Leave it to Buffy Anne Summers to drive away the one person that regardless of how much she hurt him, both with her fists and her words, was steadfast in his love. Angel. Parker. Riley. She had given herself to all of them and they all had left her high and dry. But Spike. He would never do that. Or would he?

As she turned the corner to Revello Drive, Buffy had to wonder that if, given enough time, Spike would have followed in the traditional footsteps of the others and skipped town. She pursed her lips and came to the conclusion that he would have. He was like all the rest. _But he's not, _a tiny voice cried to her, _and you know it._ But the voice was silenced by the Slayer's self-denial. _What is different about him? The fact that he's a vampire **without** a soul? The fact that the only thing keeping him from tearing my friends apart is a government chip lodged in his gray matter? And how long before that wears off? Because we all know how dependable Uncle Sam is…_

She sighed in relief. Her inner diatribe had silenced the critic within. Spike was evil. And given half the chance, he would hurt her more than she could ever be hurt. And that was the truth.

_'Did it work? Did you convince yourself?' _she heard his confident voice say to her. He had seen through her then when she so desperately attempted in vain to explain why she had kissed him that second time. He hadn't bought it for a second. And now, for some reason, Buffy was having her own difficulties believing her own excuses.

"Denial ain't just a river in…" she began, conceding that maybe, just maybe, there were things within her that she was afraid to let loose. But the sight of the black De Soto parked in her driveway interrupted her thoughts. 

"Of all the nerve," she said, her jaw stiffening, all rosy thoughts of Spike temporarily forgotten as her rage at his indignity earlier bubbled to the surface again. Her light steps became forceful stomps as her feet emptied several puddles on the pavement before her. Her fists were balled at her sides, pleading with her to re-introduce them into a certain vampire's face. But she wouldn't. Leaving someone to walk thirty minutes in the rain and splashing them with an ocean of nice and healthy acid rain water didn't warrant a beating by the Slayer, did it?

Buffy burst into a light jog up the lawn, her feet sloshing in her shoes. Her recently purchased work shoes, no doubt. No, she was wrong. As she put the key in the door and turned the lock, there was no doubt Spike had definitely earned his beating. 

Spike was vaguely aware of the conversation in the hallway between the two witches. He even heard the quiet shutting of the front door as one of the witches (probably Tara) stepped out. And his senses told him that the witch still left in the house was standing two feet behind him, the anxiety coming off of her in waves.

Despite that he was aware of all these things, Spike wasn't the least bit interested in them. He was too preoccupied with the notion of someone (namely a Buffy look-alike with a bad haircut) actually glad to see him. No, that wasn't exactly right. There had been Dru; whose always showed her dark beauty smile whenever he sauntered into the room. Then there was his Nibblet. Her affection for him was unconditional. She didn't hide behind sacred duty like her ever-denying sister. Buffy. She was a piece of work. Regardless of the things she said or did to him, her eyes told him what the rest of her was afraid to admit. She wanted him for much more than just the ecstasy that coursed through her when they were together. Still, he doubted she'd let herself admit it, much less melt into his arms in total submission. No one ever had. 

Of course, there was a first time for everything.

When the girl had first wrapped her arms around him, it took all he was worth not to wrench himself from her superhuman grip. But for reasons unknown to him, he didn't. At first, he had thought that it had been the girl's uncanny resemblance to the Slayer that kept him steadfast in her arms. But the longer he held her, the less credence he gave to that particular line of thought. It was an alien feeling he felt holding her. In truth, he was put more in mind of Dawn. 

The four months that Buffy was…gone…had been tough on all the Scoobies. After a while, they dealt with the cards they were given and moved on. Maybe not totally, but further along then he himself had. How could he? He had promised to protect her and he had failed. If it weren't for Dawn and the pain she was in, William the Bloody would have been dust many months ago. Though he never told her, Dawn had been his anchor, lest he would have drowned. There were many nights when it was just the two of them, talking, sometimes laughing. Then there were the nights when words got in the way and the silence of being alone in their grief bonded them further. He had lost count how many times Dawn had fallen asleep in his lap, sometimes watching a movie, sometimes crying herself to sleep. Though he had never cried in front of her, she knew what he was going through like only a friend could. She never pushed for him to talk about Buffy and for that he made sure he was always there for her.

Strangely, that was the same feeling this petite woman in his arms inspired. He felt her strength yet she was so lost. And for some reason, she had picked him to be her lighthouse in the darkness. 

Spike didn't know how long the embrace lasted, but finally the girl broke away, slowly, as if it pained her to move away. She tilted her head to the side, inches from his face and Spike looked into the depths of her blue-green eyes and in that moment he knew. She was his to protect and he would not fail her like he had Buffy. 

"I…I…missed you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her left hand moved from around his neck and caressed his cheeks. She studied the lines of his face, tracing them with the tips of her fingers. "You're crying," she said wiping away the tears he didn't even know were there. 

"Piffle," Spike said going for casual but failing miserably. His hands were still on the delicate hips of the girl and he wanted to let go. But he couldn't. 

"You used to hold me like this when we danced," she said, her voice still thick with emotion. "And you used to sing to me. What was that song?"

"Look, baby bit," Spike started then stopped. _Baby bit?_ He thought to himself. She, too, must have been thinking the same thing because her head dropped at those words. Her body shivered and the vampire knew she was on the verge of breaking down again. He didn't want to see that, but he didn't know what to say. It's not like he was Mr. Sensitivity and he was quite sure that his staple frankness was not the answer to alleviate the emotional viscosity of the room. 

Spike took his hand and slowly lifted the chin of the grief-stricken girl. Every muscle in her trembled as if she would break apart. Her eyes, blurred by tears looked up into the face of the once killer. And unknown to Spike, what she saw there was someone who had sworn he'd protect her to the ends of the earth and not even death would separate them. Even in her grief now, she was reminded of a time outside of time when she was similarly distraught. 

_"Don't cry, my bit," he had say, his hand running up and down her back, soothing her. "Your mum will be back. She just had some things she needs to take care of." She had cried harder at that and he had continued to rock her._

"She…doesn't…lu..love me," she choked out, "not…like you do." She had felt his body tense at that. He had taken her chin into his hand-like he did now_-and looked at her with those eyes that could melt you with its warmth or chill you to your very soul._

"Listen to me, luv," he had said, his voice stern, but tinged with…emotion? "Your mum loves you more than the world. She would do anything for you. She would kill for you. She would…" he had hesitated and then, just like now, she saw the fear and pain in his eyes, "die for you." The last words had come out in a whisper. It was that moment that he had released the hurt and anger and frustration and cried. She had forgotten her own pain and comforted him. Though she was only fifteen, still she was there. She had let him lament for hours. The emotions within him, held at bay for years, threatened to consume him until there was nothing left. She couldn't let that happen and said the only thing that she knew could slash through the stream of tears.

"She loves you," she had whispered in his ear. At first, it had only prodded him to cry harder but the sobs hushed to barely audible whimpers. "You know that. And she would never leave you. And if she did," she said and almost wanted to take it back when she felt his body stiffen. "She won't but if she did, it wouldn't be because she wanted to. It would be for a reason," the girl said comforting him, at the same time, quieting her own grief. 

"What was it you told me? 'Nothing can ever keep us apart. Not the miles between or the years ahead of us. Not even death can keep us apart," she said…

"…Not even death," she said and buried her lips into the hollow of Spike's cheek. 

As fate would have it, that was when Buffy walked into the room. 


	5. Comforting Memories

CHAPTER 5

The animosity Buffy felt had almost boiled over. For a second she had wanted so much to kick the door off its hinges. But this was her house and considering her bills were already overwhelming her as it was, the door-kicking approach fell by the wayside. She quietly slipped in, gingerly closing the door in her wake. She half expected to see the blond vampire on the couch, feet propped up on the table, as always. It never failed to annoy her the way Spike was able to get that down home comfort no matter his surroundings. 

_Although you gotta admit, Buf, that is kind of a turn on, _that small voice in her head whispered. No, she was not going there again. She thought she had silenced the critic in her head that was Spike's number one fan on the miserable walk home. Obviously, she hadn't. 

_There will be no happy thoughts of Spike, _Buffy admonished the nagging voice within. She was pissed and not even the thoughts of his baby blues searching her soul while his smooth hands caressed every part of her…would…

Buffy cursed inwardly, abashed at the heated pulse awakening between her thighs. Why did she allow him to affect her like this? No matter how mad she was in mind, her body had always wanted him. The contrasting coolness of his skin against her warmth. His lithe form nestled against her petite frame. The way he trailed her body with kisses. The indescribable joy when he entered her…

She clenched her fists together, pushing nails into the palms of her hand. _There, _she thought as the pain temporarily cleansed her of physical longings. No, she would not relent to her body's cravings, no matter how good those cravings were satiated. 

A quick sweep of the first floor turned up nothing. She checked the basement. Still no sign of him. That could only mean one thing…

_The nerve of him,_ she thought, her body trembling with anger. _Who in the hell does he think he is? _She asked, as she made her way to the steps. She threw a casual glance at the door and saw Willow's wet jacket dangling from the coat rack. How had she missed it before? It had been right in front or her and it wasn't too difficult to spot the banana yellow coat. It stuck out more than a Fyarl demon in a crowd of hobbits. Buffy laughed inwardly and a smile crept across her once sullen face, threatening to erase her once bubbling fury. 

_I wonder what her and Spike are up to. Maybe he's making her do a love spell on me,_ she joked, walking up the steps. _Hell, they could even be…_

Buffy stopped in mid-sentence with the thought of Willow and Spike…that was just not a peachy image for her to envision. She stuck her tongue out, her face contorting into her 'whiskey game face'. Her mind quickly dismissed the thought of her best friend and her…and Spike doing anything other than being cordial.

_Maybe not with Willow**,** _the voice in her head whispered again**, **_but what about another girl? Another woman? _Buffy had no immediate reply because it was true. What if Spike did hook up with someone else? What if she was willing to do the same things Buffy did? What if she was prettier? What if she had a better body? What if…

_What if she accepted him, for who he was,_ the voice interrupted derisively. Buffy's heart stammered at the thought of another woman treating him like a man and not a demon. Another woman allowing him to explore her depths fully and completely, uninhibited by her fear of being scorned. 

She saw him with a woman, deep in the throes of passion, their bodies writhing as one. And then he looked at the anonymous woman as she called his name…"William"…and his body convulsed with his lava-like release deep into her core, never once breaking eye contact with her. 

"Those are my eyes," Buffy pouted, her shoulders drooping slightly. "He's supposed to look at me like that." She snapped herself back to reality and was aware that she was talking to herself. Her eyebrows scrunched in frustration as she stepped into the hallway of the second floor. 

"Damn him," she muttered through gritted teeth. As much as she wished it not to be true, she had all but given up the notion of concealing her contempt around Spike. The vampire had a way of pushing her buttons like no other. Always had. Always would. Even from their first meeting all those years ago, in the alley outside the Bronze, she had known he was different. He was incomparable. It radiated off of him in waves. From his cocky walk to the sarcastic edge to his words. It was there every time he looked at her, every time he touched her. Every time his body shuddered in its last gasps inside of her. It clung to him like a pariah and it would forever be a part of him. But what was 'it'? Buffy questioned. She didn't know why she asked herself. She knew what 'it' was and yet she was terrified to admit it. 

'It' was pain and fear. It was something that despite one hundred years in the shadows, Spike could not shake. The pain in his eyes had been from the injuries of his heart. He had never been truly loved. His love for the women of his life had enveloped him like the wisps of smoke from fire. It burned and sizzled within his veins, inextinguishable. It was complete. Yet it was also unrequited. He suffered for his reckless abandon. He could not control his heart and time after time, it was staked through the center. But this pain did not turn him to dust. It was much more sadistic in its course. It twisted and pulled at him, making him cry out. And he had cried out. Cried out to her; the slayer, his mortal, enemy to end it. She could pull the stake free from his heart or thrust it deeper into him, killing all that he wanted to be for her. 

__

I did a good job of that, she thought sardonically. Regardless of her sometime revulsion toward him and what he made her do -what he made her **want** to do- a part of her cried out at the injustice of telling him goodbye. The look in his eyes haunted her dreams, called out to her through the darkness of night when she was alone in her room. 

And his call to her, his desperate plea was pervaded with fear. It was his fear of loving unconditionally and finding himself in Buffy's heavenly embrace, only to be ripped from it by a litany of words. Though he hid it well, the few times they had patrolled together, albeit uncomfortably, she saw it all. He was a ghost of his former self. He still talked the talk but Buffy saw that he was dying. And the only person that could bring him back from his rapid decent into indifference was the one who had sent him there in the first place. 

__

You could change that the voice (idyllic Buffy) sang. She ran her hands through her hair. It was not only wet but filthy as well. The vulgar mix of DMP and rainwater clasped to her fingers. The rainwater he spattered her with. That was when her fury returned with a renewed vigor. 

Everything was his fault. He had infuriated, debased, seduced and invaded her in every sense of the word. And she had been thoroughly embarrassed by his latest stunt in splashing her. She balled her fists again, nestling into the familiar comfort of her anger. He was a monster. There was no pain or fear. There couldn't be. Monsters didn't feel emotional pain nor fear the effects of a few words. No, he was a man in appearance only. But what counted was what he was on the inside and she knew without a doubt that a demon lurked within the shell of his humanity, screaming to run rampant. 

Strengthened by her resolve, Buffy strode through the upstairs intent on confronting Spike one last time. He couldn't be here. He had to go. She would thank him (begrudgingly) for taking care of Dawn and ask him to leave. He didn't belong here. She didn't need him anymore. She…

**__**

Used him? She faltered momentarily at the seething hatred in the tone of her idyllic self. With an effort she continued on to her room. Try as she might to ignore it, the scorn had been directed not at Spike but at herself. That thought only made her madder. 

She did not need to check any of the rooms. She knew where he was, felt him in the solitude that was her room. She forgot about the pain and fear that looked back at her through his infinite eyes. She ignored the times he was there for her and she never said thank you. She let the anger of having every one leave to trickle through her veins until it became a cataclysmic rush of fury that pounded in her ears. She had to stay mad. It was her only way to stay sane. Because deep down she knew. She knew that if she ever lost hold of the anger, then she would have to face the fact that Spike was not a monster. He was more human than most of the living. He gave himself to her, stuck his neck out. And what did she do? She wasted little time in bringing the ax down. One thing was certain in the dysfunctional arrangement that was their relationship: it was doomed because one of them was a monster. She just wasn't sure anymore which one of them was... 

Holding onto the anger with a desperation born of self-loathing, Buffy stormed into her room, mouth at the ready to spew fire. 

But the words never came. 

She vaguely saw the passive figure of Willow standing to the left. But Willow was not what she saw. Spike. He was there, on her bed and he held something to his chest as if his very life depended upon it. As Buffy made her way further into the room, she saw the object of his embrace. A petite young girl clung to the vampire, her thin arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Her face was buried in his chest. The girl's head cocked up and she whispered to him. A second later, she kissed him. 

Every shred of anger and disdain the slayer had carried up to her room disappeared in that one moment. She stood there, her mouth agape. Nothing was in focus save for the heartbreak that sat on her bed. It was like an accident on the side of the road that you told yourself you wouldn't look at. Her brain screamed for her to look away but her eyes refused. They swallowed in every detail of what lay before them. She was frozen in time, a picture of agony and despair. All she wanted to do was crawl into a ball and cry. 

Buffy felt her eyes burning and knew she couldn't stop the flow of tears about to burst forth. She turned abruptly to leave and felt a delicately familiar hand grip her shoulder. 

"Buffy?" Willow said tentatively. She hadn't heard Buffy enter the room. The tiny gasp that escaped her friend's mouth had alerted Willow of the slayer's presence. What she saw when she turned to her best friend chilled her to the bone. 

Buffy's face was etched in a twisted mask of torment. It was a look of someone whose world had crumbled and the impossibility of picking up the tattered remains lay before him or her. And the road ahead was cluttered with obstacles that would awaken all too vivid memories of the time before the collapse. The times of ecstasy and content were a hollow shell and the loss was more real than anything around. Willow was all too intimate with that feeling. 

That was how she felt after Tara had left her. 

"Buffy," she called again. Buffy didn't turn around and her anxiety bled through to Willow's hand. Buffy turned to Willow as if to speak. Her emerald eyes brimmed with unshed tears. 

"Willow," Buffy stammered, her throat choked with emotion. "I…I…saw Spike's car out front and I…" she trailed off. More concerned than ever, Willow looked back at the two figures on the bed before wrapping her arm around Buffy's shoulders and leading her friend out into the hallway. 

The slayer quickly turned and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. When she turned to face her best friend, there was no sign of the previous anguish visible seconds before. 

"What's going on in there?" she asked, her voice still shaky. She cleared her throat casually and put her hands to her hips. "Mr. Blond Boy has some explaining to do." Buffy was proud of herself. In seconds she had put on the guise of 'hanging in there' she had so often brought forth since her… return. She always thought her abilities to shield her friends from the tumult of emotions inside her were sub-par at best. But it never seemed to fail in throwing off their concern. And though she didn't want them to know what was going on in her head, she was always a little disappointed that they held their prying to a minimum. They took her fake smile as truth and didn't breach the subject. 

All except for Spike. 

__

Shit, she thought. Even at the mere thought of him caused her façade to falter. She looked at Willow whose eyes burrowed into Buffy. _She knows something is up,_ Buffy told herself. _She has to…_

Something was wrong. Willow hadn't acted on the worry in her eyes. She fidgeted nervously and glanced several times back into the room. 

"Will," Buffy said, the command back in her voice, "what's going on?" Willow was hesitant to meet Buffy's eyes. Buffy grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and pulled the ex-witch closer. "Willow, talk to me."

"Buffy," she finally managed. Her previous concern for the slayer had been forgotten and now she tripped over what to say to her friend about their 'guest'. "Maybe you should sit down…" she feigned her trademark perkiness, "you know how you like to prop those bad boys after a grease-filled shift in the Trouble Meat Palace." She gestured to Buffy's waterlogged feet. Ordinarily, Buffy would have given the comment a weak smile but the concern in her friend's eyes killed any hopes of frivolity. 

Buffy cocked her head and Willow knew right away that the slayer was getting impatient. 

"Spike found this girl out in the middle of the street. She didn't look to well; like she's had it rough."

"Join the club," the slayer muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing. Okay, fine. Girl hurt. Spike did a good thing," she glanced into the room. The girl had moved to the other side of Spike's face. "I don't mean to sound like Ms. Insensitivity here," she said, a touch of anger simmered over her previous hurt, "but why didn't he take her to a hospital?" 

"You didn't see her?" she asked.

"Uh, no…Rico Suave there was putting the moves over her so…"

"Buffy, no," Willow interrupted, "it's not like that at all." She walked closer to the slayer and lowered her voice to a whisper. "She was burning up when she got here and we put an ice pack on her. She was unconscious and we thought you…**she…**we thought she was going to die. But her temperature just sorta flamed out. And when she woke up, she was all freaked and all. I mean, waking up in a strange place…I mean, you understand, don't you?" 

Buffy sighed in exasperation. "I understand her getting freaked waking up with two strangers looking over her…"

"Three."

"What?"

"Three…strangers. Tara was here."

"Tara? Have you two…?" Buffy let the question linger in the air. 

A slightly disappointed look passed over Willow. "No. I mean…no. We are on speaking terms. A good civilizedy kind of stuff. I mean it's kind of weird sometimes but…"

"Willow,"

"Spike told me to call her," she finished sheepishly. 

"What? Why?"

"Well, he sorta said that…well, he thought we might need Tara since I can't use magic and…"

"Why would he need magic?"

"That was before the girl woke up and she was all toasty like I said before and…well."

"Well, what?" The question came out more tersely than Buffy would have liked. 

"Buffy…he thought it was…" Buffy never heard Willow finish as a fist crashed into the slayer's face and sent her sprawling to the floor. She crashed into the wall, the back of her head thumping against it. She winced at the pain of both her head and jaw. She looked up to see what had happened and for a second was afraid she would see Spike standing over her. 

__

Please, God, don't let it be…were her first thoughts before they were completely erased by the figure standing over her. 

Buffy looked over the all too familiar petite frame. Aside from an unhealthy amount of scars from the insides of her thighs to the underside of her pert breasts, the girl was more than toned. The ripples of her stomach muscles were visible through her golden skin. Her strawberry blond hair hung low to her chin, covering much of her face. But the downed slayer could see enough of the girl to be taken aback. Hate-filled eyes stared out from underneath her bangs. The emerald-ice orbs penetrated Buffy's soul and she shivered involuntarily. She had rarely seen such a venomous look in all her time as a slayer. The vampires and demons loathed her and hated who she was and what she was. They scowled their evil scowls at her and wanted her dead. But this was different. They knew her by reputation alone and used that as their hate. They really could not hate **her. **What Buffy saw in the girl's eyes, however, was a hatred whose conception had once been born of love. 

"Bitch," the girl spat, her muscles tensing. In her disarray, Buffy had let her guard down, but the girl did not attack. Instead, she glared holes through Buffy, as if the look alone would finish the job. 

"It's impossible," she whispered. But nothing was impossible on the Hellmouth. She had seen it before with both Willow and Xander but this was a touch different.

Looking at your double and not someone else's always was. 


	6. Promise to A Lady

Chapter 6

Though dumbfounded himself, Spike couldn't help but smirk. It wasn't that he had been pleased with Buffy getting popped in the jaw (except for his demon-which was doing back flips and spewing catcalls at the downed slayer) but the look on her face was priceless. _Where's a soddin' Kodak when you need it? _He thought mirthfully. 

The hallway was eerily quiet as Buffy gaped at the girl in disbelief. The three women in the hall were frozen in place and Spike was the first of the four to react. His hand clasped firmly on the girl's shoulder and it was all he had not to jerk it back. She was warm! And it wasn't the supernatural heat that bled off her earlier. This was a human being-type 98.6 degrees warm. What was going on here? The warmth of her skin was only superseded by the tension radiating from her. He had to intervene before things really got hairy. 

"Hey bit," he said amicably, "I know that Lil Miss Slayer over there…well, down there, isn't always the friendliest of bints. But do you really think that was necessary?" It took a second before his words registered with the girl. Her intensity evaporated and her shoulders slouched noticeably. As if realizing for the first time that she was naked, the girl crossed her arms over her breasts. Spike draped his duster over her shoulders and escorted her back into the room. 

"Let's go luv," he said soothingly, "time to get you cleaned up." She didn't resist and Spike felt her body trembling as he walked her over to the bed. He glanced over his shoulder at Buffy with a mixture of relief and amusement before sitting the girl back onto the bed. 

Buffy's mind was racing. _What the hell is going on? _She asked herself. _Did I just get punched by myself?_ She had stared at the naked girl for what seemed like hours before Spike covered her up and led her back to the room. She would have given him points for decency when she caught his bemused smirk. 

_So this is funny to him, _she thought, finally getting to her feet. _I will show that bleach blonde vampire just how funny I think…_

Her thoughts were cut off by the insistent grip of Willow on her arm.

"Buffy," the ex-Wicca warned. Willow knew how volatile her best friend could get and before Buffy went off to retaliate, she resorted to the infamous 'Willow resolve face'. 

"Did you…" she half-shrieked before Willow hushed her with her finger. 

"Did you see how he looked at me?" Buffy whispered her bewilderment. "He thinks this is funny."

"Buffy," Willow replied, rubbing circles on her friend's back, "I…I don't think Spike finds this funny." 

Buffy wanted to disagree but couldn't. She knew he wasn't to blame but shouldering someone else with the responsibility made things…simpler. But that wouldn't solve anything. She had to deal with it straight up. But not just yet. 

"Well," she groaned, changing the subject, "the only thing I know is that these clothes are getting a little too close for comfort." She plastered a mock smile on her face and Willow returned the favor. "I need to get some clothes in m…my room that seems to be inhabited by my twin who has a bad case of 'put your fist in Buffy's face'," she added dryly. 

"Buffy," Willow pleaded, "come in my room and we can get some stuff, ok?"

"Much thanks, Will, but I don't too much fancy wearing someone else's…"

"Unmentionables?" was the sardonic reply. They both looked over at Spike. Willow rolled her eyes. Just Spike being, well, Spike. Buffy, on the other hand, saw through the 'innocence' of his statement. _Damn vampire hearing. _She flushed involuntarily as he watched her with that infuriating smugness. He still had his arm around the girl though his attention was on Buffy. 

"I'm just…I think I'll change in Willow's room," she said, a little faster than she desired. 

"C'mon, now, luv. The lil bit didn't scare the big bad slayer away now did she?" 

"No, Spike," Buffy replied, putting on a thick air of bravado, "but I don't think she wants to watch me strip down…"

His eyebrows raised.

"Uhmm…ahh…"

"S'matter, luv? Cat got ya tongue?" He snickered. "I reckon he does. Fancy that. Hmm. Seems like my tongue is just fine," he said, and ran his tongue slowly across his lips. 

Refusing to meet his eyes, Buffy grabbed a bra and panty set out of her drawer and all but dashed out the room past Willow. The red head, curious as to the discourse between slayer and vampire, moseyed out the door behind her. 

"Works every time," he said to no one in particular. He cast thoughts of Buffy aside and looked down at the girl. Her head was at an odd angle against the inside of his arm and she was curiously still. He peaked into her face as best he could without disturbing her. 

"Hmm. Would ya look at that. Out like a light." Removing his arm from around her shoulders, Spike deftly laid her onto the soft mattress. He knelt on the floor, marveling at how much she looked like Buffy. He studied the contours of her face in every detail. From this vantage, he noticed minute differences between her and Buffy. Her jaw line wasn't as rounded and had more of an angled flare to it. Her chin had the same rounded point as Buffy and her lips had a little more flesh to them. Her nose was slightly askew; no doubt it had been broken multiple times. And her arched eyebrows weren't quite as fine. Other than that, she was Buffy through and through. And the slayer attitude completed the package. 

Speaking of which, what had Buffy done to spike this girl's temper like that? Though his back was turned to the door, Buffy wasn't the type of person to prov…scratch that; she was the Queen of provocation. But he knew Buffy was blameless. _Just another piece missing from the puzzle. _

His hand caressed her slight arm affectionately. Such power contained in such a frail, petite form, just like Buffy. He had felt the power within her when she had thrown him to the side to get at Buffy. It was more than vampire strength. He had fought enough slayers to educate him on the ins and outs of slayer strength. And this girl definitely had it in spades. 

"I wonder how good you really are, pet," he whispered with wide eyes. He pushed a strand of hair away from her eye and traced the vicious cut that marred her otherwise flawless face. 

"Guess we may find out soon enough." His features hardened, murder in his eyes. "But I'll promise you one thing. Who ever put this nasty on your pretty little face is gonna have to answer to the Big Bad." 

He kissed her lightly on the forehead and slipped out of the room. He didn't want to leave her alone but the promise of the slayer in drenched undergarments, well…

It had been two weeks. A vampire had to get his jollies from somewhere. 


	7. Fallin' Off the Wagon

CHAPTER 7

Before continuing to Willow's room, Buffy made a pit stop in the bathroom. She peeled off her work gear and toweled the moisture from her skin as best she could before slipping into her spare underclothes. Her jaw was definitely sore but the tingling in her limbs (and other places) took her mind off her facial throb.

_I'm not going to start this again, _she chided herself. He was on her mind-again. She had had enough of that on the walk home. Thirty minutes of Spike think time was more than enough for her. Too much, in fact. 

_'You're gonna crave me…' _his voice sauntered into her mind. She was **_so _**not starting this. 

"Show's where your priorities are slayer," she said to the weary face in the mirror. She scrubbed her hair with the towel and wrapped it around her head. She had to get her mind right. If the first thing on it was craving Spike _after _being decked by your double, then you had it bad. 

"Have what bad?" she asked herself. But that was a question that she was definitely not going to answer. 

She left her clothes in a heap and made her way to Willow's room, a second towel wrapped around her body. 

_Don't want Spike seeing the goodies. _She shuddered involuntarily (for the umpteenth time) at the thought of Spike and…goodies. 

Willow was sitting Indian style in the middle of her bed and caught the shiver. 

"Are you okay?" she asked. 

"YeahImfine," Buffy blurted out. "Why wouldn't I be?" She refused to meet her friend's eye and made a beeline for the clothes Willow had set out on a chair.

"Well, considering you just got walloped by…well, by yourself, you have one free pass to not okay-ville."

Buffy sighed inwardly as she traded the towel for sweatpants. _At least some things are safe. _

"Well, yeah. I mean it hurt but I'll be fine." 

"You know, you're taking this 'girl-looks-like-me-and-wants-to-punch-my-face-in thing pretty well," Willow said. 

Buffy looked at her friend and was greeted by a deadpan expression. Two seconds later, Willow burst into a smile.

"Sorry, couldn't resist."

"I see," Buffy replied. She removed the towel around her head and began combing through her hair. There were still vestiges of grease strewn about. "I need a shower bad."

"Yeah, you do," a voice said from the hall. Both Willow and Buffy jumped. A slight 'eek' escaped the redhead's lips. Amused at the reaction, Spike sauntered in the room. He held his soiled shirt in hand and the light reflected the residual water from his upper body. 

Buffy was mesmerized. Spike's arms swung cockily back and forth, his six-pack flexing with every step. His black jeans clung to his thin hips and Buffy could make out the sharp groove where his abs connected with his lower body. At that moment, a trickle of water dripped down his chest and over his abs. Buffy's only coherent thoughts involved honey, caramel and Spike's gorgeous six-pack. For starters. 

"And myself needin' a good ole' romp in some hot water too, well…" he let the thought linger and traced his fingers across his chest. Buffy knew exactly where his mind was heading. She should have, since she had beaten him to it. 

"Wow, Spike," Willow said, breaking the silence, "looks like somebody works out." She had also been transfixed by the vampire's taut body. Her thoughts, however, didn't reach the plateau of lust of other two. "Why if I weren't playing for the other team, I just might have helped myself to…" she stopped when both he and Buffy tore their eyes off one another to gaze at her. 

"I mean…well," she stumbled. She put her fingers to her mouth. "Willow shutting up," she said and 'zipped' her lips shut. 

Her distraction had given Buffy a much needed breather and when the slayer spoke, all (or most) of her faculties were re-focused on the important events of the day.

"So how is she?" she asked Spike.

"She's sleeping," he replied, his brows furrowing with his concern for the unnamed girl. "The bit just…"

"Bit?"

"Yeah, I called her baby bit," he pondered for a moment, "don't know why either. Just felt right."

"Well, I don't think Dawn's gonna like that you…oh my God, Dawn." Buffy looked at the clock with wide eyes. "She's going to be home soon…"

"Buffy," Willow interrupted as she hopped off the bed, "don't worry. Tara went to get her a few minutes before you came in." 

Buffy sighed audibly before turning her attention back to Spike. "So what do you know anything else about her? A name? A place…?"

"That'd be a no, luv. Told Red here everything I know," _Except that she doesn't have a bloody reflection. _"Fancy we'll have to wait till she's done playing Sleeping Beauty 'fore we get some answers."

At the mention of that, the scene Buffy had walked in on earlier came back to her. 

__

Her arms wrapped around his neck like he was the only thing holding her in this reality. The desperation in her embrace and then she kissed him.

"Well, guess you're her Prince Charming," Buffy said derisively, "better go finish your work."

Both Willow and Spike looked at her with puzzled eyes before it dawned on the vampire just what she was getting at. He walked up to Buffy and despite Willow's stares, moved in as if to kiss the slayer. For a moment she leaned in to him but the touch of his cool skin scalded her to the core and she jumped back. Spike looked at her amusedly, still leaning forward and whispered, "Jealous?" before he backed off.

Buffy was flustered and the red that crept from her thighs and onto her face was difficult to mask. She hurried to the mirror as if finishing her hair and it wasn't until then that she realized she hadn't put her shirt on. 

"Lookin' for this, luv?" She turned around to find the shirt Willow gave her dangling seductively off the vampire's middle finger, swinging side to side. She snatched it from him, hastily tugging it over her head. She wanted to say something to him so bad she could taste it. But, as always, he had a way of making her lose any type of verbal proficiency. 

Willow, for her part, had watched the exchange with interest. _Something's going on between those two, _she said to herself, quite confident of her supposition. She tagged a mental Post-It Note to the thought and moved on. 

"So what are we gonna do about her?" she asked. 

"I guess we'll have to wait for her to get up, like Spike said, and have a Scoobie meeting."

"I think it should be here instead of the Magic Box. She didn't look exactly like she could run a marathon," Willow added.

"Red's got a point," Spike chimed, still rubbing his hand up and down his chest. "She was right knackered after the rough and tumble with you, Buffy. She's still regaining her strength from whatever happened to her before."

"Great, another Scoobie meeting. Guess we'll have to put off taking Dawn out-again," Buffy said dejectedly. She couldn't help but feel bad. For as much as Dawn was becoming the Big Unbearable, Buffy missed spending time with her sister. She had thought that calling it off with Spike would give her at least some time to spend with Dawn. It made sense in theory. But she had quickly found out that the more time she spent at home, the harder it became not to think about him. Talk about a quandary. 

She was spared another internal diatribe by a door opening. 

"That must be Dawn and Tara," Willow said and hurried out the room. Buffy went to follow but Spike blocked her passage with his arm. 

"What are you doing?" she asked, her patience all but gone. 

"Nothin, luv," he said, flashing his 'innocent' glare. He brought his free hand up against her face. Buffy recoiled at his touch but more out of necessity than disgust. He knew he had her. He had smelled her desire when he first entered the room.

"Stopwhatareyoutryingtodo?" She blabbered. She could not let him touch her. As much as she needed it to be over between them, she knew if he touched her in that certain way, the way that had let her know that he loved her, she would fall right off the wagon. Two weeks of exercising her willpower down the drain. 

"Nothing that you don't already want me to do, luv," he said. Spike casually maneuvered Buffy against the doorframe and ran his hand slowly down the side of her body. She gasped and unconsciously squeezed her thighs together. It was getting hot. 

"Stop that," she said, unconvincingly. Her body betrayed her demand and she ran her hands up his chest. He moaned with need as her nail scraped against his alabaster skin. She pulled one hand back while the other one found his lower back. 

"You're making this harder than it already is," she moaned out, lost in the blue oceans that were his eyes. He laughed at that and it made her shiver with warmth inside. His laugh was full of life, a denial of his body's non-life. No matter how hopeless her life and their relationship seemed, his laughter was a note of hope in the silence of despair. She had been so transfixed by his laugh that she was unprepared for how his face changed and he looked into her. It screamed of desire, lust, need, and promises she was afraid to see. She was a slave to that look and she knew that all it would take would be one kiss and the little control she did have would be history. 

"Ya know, luv," he whispered, getting closer, "you're the one making it harder." He saw the protest in her eyes and put his finger to her lips before she could speak. "I wasn't talkin' about that, luv," and he pushed himself against her, "I was talkin' about this." She gasped loudly this time as his erection rubbed against her melting core through the thin sweat pants. He bent his knees so she could feel him against her now pulsating womanhood. 

_I can't let this happen, _she told herself. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop but her words betrayed her. 

"God, Spike. I need you…now," ushered from her lips. 

The mixed look of shock and delight on Spike's face as Buffy placed her other hand on his hip and pulled him to her until their bodies were crushed together. He moaned, closing his eyes, and one hand found its way up the back of her shirt. 

"Your skin is so smooth," he whispered as his tongue danced across her ear. She shuddered in anticipation. Her grip tightened on his hips, nails digging into his skin even through jeans. She lifted her left leg up and expertly hooked it around the back of his knee. He lowered himself further to heighten her stimulation. Spike felt her limbs tense and could stand it no more. He removed his arm from under her shirt. He licked the side of her neck and she moaned with every stroke of his tongue. He could taste her heartbeat and wondered how she was still conscious; it was beating that fast. A smile crossed his lips as he realized that it was _him _that got her like that. 

His thoughts were interrupted as Buffy bit down on the flesh around his nipple. Her tongue danced around it and she bit down again, almost enough to draw blood. Spike's hands spasmed against the doorframe, clutching at air. His blood surged through his veins and his manhood ached for a release. Her mouth wandered to his other nipple and as rough as she had been with the left, she was that gentle with the right. Her lips were feather light as they brushed over his skin and the tenderness of her tongue made him quiver within. She looked up at him and he saw more than her lust for his body in her green emeralds. She licked her lips and he could not think any longer without at least touching her swollen lips. He bent down and kissed her delicately, as if she would break if he did not control himself. It was a chaste kiss at first before their tongues intertwined in a familiar dance. When they kissed like this, the whole world ceased to exist. It was as if they had been exalted to a higher plane of consciousness. He was no longer un-dead. He was alive. Though his heart did not beat, the passion that surged within was an ample substitute.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn't feel her left hand loosen its grip on his hip and sneak across his thigh. He did feel, however, when she squeezed his throbbing member. It was enough to break the kiss. 

Buffy giggled lightly at the look of pure want on his face. His erection threatened to bust through his jeans to get to her and she had to smile at that. _This is all for me, if I want it,_ she thought to herself. All previous convictions of staying away from him were lost in her storm of emotions. She removed her right hand from his hip while her left one continued to massage his erection. She traced the lines of his face. The scar above his left eye. The sharpness of his cheekbones. He was everything she wanted. Everything she needed. 

__

He loves me so much, she said, finally coming to the complete truth. It wasn't about lust or about 'doing a Slayer' or a sick obsession (at least not anymore) that drove him to her arms time after time. No, it was a love that she thought he was capable of. A love that she had resigned herself to not having. It was unconditional in every manner of being. No matter how much she denied him. No matter how she hurt him with her words or fists, he would always do for her. Other men would have pulled back, closed up. And she wouldn't have blamed them one bit. But Spike was different. He was always there, whether she wanted him to be or not. Either for the good or the bad, Spike never went halfway with his love. 

"What's on your mind, luv?" he asked. He had been hesitant to speak at first. He knew that, despite his attempts at flattery, the best things didn't always come out of his mouth. And as much as his actions could heat the mood up, his words could just as well cool it. 

Buffy broke eye contact and studied his chest. His skin was red where she had bitten him. Her hand dropped from his face and traced along the outline of her teeth marks. What was she thinking? _I just want to feel…Is this really happening?_ She was torn between the truth and lying.

"You love me so much," she said, her voice husky. The truth won out. 

Spike kissed her on her forehead before lifting her chin up. Her eyes glistened in the light and he knew it was only a matter of time before tears fell. He marveled at it. Here was the Slayer, the Chosen One. She had stopped countless Apocalypses, fought for her life every single night and had died twice. She was the toughest person he had ever met in his 120 plus years of un-life. And yet, she was just as fragile as she was strong. She could battle toe-to-toe with a hell god and yet be totally baffled by affairs of the heart. He couldn't blame her. She hadn't had the opportunity to grow into her feelings. A whirlwind romance at sixteen with a 240-year-old vampire who just happens to go O.J. when you sleep with him didn't help. She didn't doubt that she loved the poofter, but this was different. Spike had done things to her she had never known were possible. But it was more than that. He loved her with all his being. And that realization scared her to no end. Her streak of luck with men was a far cry from a confidence builder. She was probably telling herself that as long as it was physical, she could deal. If it went further, if he managed to slither his way inside her heart… He knew what she was thinking. She was so afraid of letting someone in. She could give him her body, even her mind, but not her heart. And he understood. If she did let him in, he would be in a place where he could hurt her more than Angel or Riley ever could. And she probably would never recover from it. The simplest way to deal was to curse him and look at herself in disgust for what she let him do. It was her defense for caring too much. Afraid as she was, though, it was wearing on her. Slowly the levels of denial were stripped away. She had taken a big step in admitting Spike's love for her. For so long she had cursed him as a monster incapable of love. But she had experienced that love on numerous occasions. Spike smiled inwardly. If she could admit that a monster like him could actually _love_, then could she also admit to herself that it was _possible_ to love him back? 

Spike stared into her eyes. They told him so much about her. More than she ever knew. He could tell when she was hurt, angry, aroused or excited by a peek into the green seas that were her eyes. He searched them now. The fear of being hurt again was evident. As was the need to be loved. But there was something else too. He had seen it during the Glory ordeal and a hint of it when he had come to kill her on the porch as she lamented about her mother. She was a little girl lost whose sanity hinged on one kind word or deed to make the pain or fear go away. He knew exactly what she was looking for. 

Reassurance. 

"I'm scared," she whimpered, "that you'll…leave."

Spike could have sworn that his undead heart lurched in his chest. He looked at her face, a retinue of sadness, fear, desire and…love? He wasn't sure about the last one but there was something in the way she looked at him that gave him hope…

"Buffy, remember the time I told you I was drowning in you?" She nodded. "That will never change. No matter how much you deny what you feel, no matter how much it hurts not to touch you when someone else is around, I'm not going anywhere. And you know why?" She shook her head. He smiled gently and kissed her on both cheeks before kissing her fully on the lips. A moan escaped her, as she was lost in the kiss. He regretfully pulled away. 

"Because of that, luv. When I kiss you, despite what you've said, I know that you feel for me. Now it may not be love," he smirked, "yet, but it is something. And no matter how pissed I get at you and want to tell you to sod off, I don't. All I've ever wanted from you was a crumb. A morsel for my hopes to cling to. Every kiss you give me adds another crumb to my collection."

She smiled at that. "So you're like the king of crumbs now."

He chuckled softly before answering. "Well, pet, I am moving up in the world. I fancy one day I'll have enough crumbs for a whole cake," he paused. A mischievous grin etched his face. He kissed her again, fully on the lips and trailed kisses down her chin. He kissed the side of her neck, gently taking her skin between his teeth and she moaned in barely contained ecstasy. His tongue traced her collarbone. He planted butterfly kisses between her breasts that made her head swoon even through the fabric of her shirt. She wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on her bare flesh. He knelt in front of her and kissed her belly button. 

"Of course," he finished, "until I have all those crumbs, I guess I'll have to make due keeping my mouth busy with other things." Buffy shuddered at his words. She knew what he meant and boy did he know how to do it! 

He was in the process of pulling her pants down when a chuckle-cough made the lovers whip their heads toward the hallway. 

"T…Tara," Buffy said in exasperation. She was mortified beyond belief. Not that Tara had caught them in the act since she already knew. But it was the fact that…well, that Tara caught them in the act. 

The witch did her best to stifle a bout of giggles but she managed to get out what she wanted to say. "We…we told Dawn about the other you and all. Willow called Xander and…he said he'd be right over."

"What about Anya?" Buffy asked, frantically trying to compose herself. That task wasn't easy considering that Spike still knelt in front of her…unmentionables. To make matters worse, his right hand, deftly hidden from view, rubbed the side of her leg endlessly. 

"She won't get out the Magic Box until at least nine. She said she could stop by then."

"Right. Fine. Dandy," Buffy agreed. She finally mustered the strength to walk away from Spike's magnetic touch. "Going down stairs," she said and traded a bashful smile with Tara. 

"Well then," Spike said, standing, "guess we should be getting down there too, wouldn't you say, Tinker?"

Tara only smiled at him, her eyes amusedly fixated on his crotch. 

"What?" he asked.

"Ummm…so..ahhh…how's that cramp?"

"Cramp? What cramp? Oh…the one from Buffy's birthday gig?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Sodding thing feels great."

"I see," she said smirking leading his eyes down to the bulge he had forgotten was there. 

"Bloody hell!" he said and Tara swore that he saw him blush. Satiated with her Spike teasing for the day, she practically skipped down the steps. 

Spike only looked at her, perplexed. He really liked Tara and all but something was not right about her. She knew something about him and it was driving him crazy not knowing. He shrugged it off as he thought of what had just transpired between him and Buffy. She had taken a tentative step from behind that impregnable wall she so expertlyhid behind. It was only a matter of time before she gave herself to him with no pretense.

_That'll be the day, _he thought and ambled down the steps, elated. 

***

Finally some Buffy/Spike! Ha. Chapter 8 will get more into the stranger that's after the slayer. Tell me what you think so far. 


	8. Down to Business

CHAPTER 8

The traveler pushed himself off the wet grass and buttoned his pants. "Nothing like a good forcible entry to go along with a couple light snacks_," _he quipped. He looked down at his handiwork; pleased at the destruction he had wrought. The boy had actually tried to fight him. Ha! He wanted to kill him quick in order to have a go with his pretty bitch. Well, he had hit the traveler pretty good, at least for being so scrawny. It sullied the traveler's mood somewhat. Instead of killing the boy off the bat, he had made him watch as he took the boy's woman in so many vile ways. Hard to do anything with a broken back and shattered kneecaps. He was cruel and he knew it. At least he had put the boy out of his misery. 

The traveler knelt down to the girl. He twirled a lock of her hair between his slender fingers. She had passed out again. He had thought about killing her, turning her even. But his demon screamed at the injustice of it. Handiwork like this had to be admired, treasured in living memory. Keeping her alive was the only way. And if it resulted in nightmares for the rest of her life? Well, as people were so fond of saying, _Shit Happens. _

He chuckled to himself and walked away from the bloody mess he had left in his wake. Enough of the games; it was time for business. 

He sighed as he descended upon the town. All those people, walking by him, none aware of his true nature. What he wouldn't give to take whom ever he wanted. But he had to maintain discipline. In this world, or time, the humans were still in control. Or so they thought. 

_Go about your business, cattle, _he thought as he eyed passers-by, delighting in their fear. Aside arms covered in tattoos and a curly shock of platinum blond hair, he was decidedly average. He stood a little over six feet with the build of a distance runner: lithe yet powerful. His face was clean-cut except for the conglomeration of hair affixed to his chin. Nothing to be unnerved by. Of course it may have been that homicidal look in his eyes. Unmistakable contempt glared out at them, as if they weren't even there. As if they were all insignificant, their lives meaningless. And they were right. He was privy to future events that would forever alter the nature of things upon earth. And to think, it would all start because one unnatural relationship…

He smiled at the prospect of returning to his own time. 

_In order to return, Seth, you need the locket the Slayer wears around her neck. And let's not forget that I want her alive. And unharmed._

He remembered the words of his master quite clearly and had to still the demon that raged within him. Even before his embrace into the world of shadows, Seth had never been known for his restraint. He did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He was a man driven by emotions and that was why she had chosen him. 

He smiled at the thought of her. He was drawn to her in a way he could not explain and once she laid her eyes upon him, she too was smitten. He had reminded her of someone she had once been close to. She had even insisted on him making certain aesthetic-modifications. He fingered the deep gash above his left eye. She had taken her nail to it and it had yet to heal. 

_Emerald, _he thought to himself. She was an obsession he would have no more. She had bedded him for months but had finally taken him to her consort, lest their affair be found out. She had convinced her consort to sire Seth and once he had been turned, she had become off limits. She was his master's through and through. She rarely spoke to Seth afterwards, always at his master's side. But he saw the longing in her eyes and would always love her in his heart. 

He pushed those thoughts away as he navigated through the center of town. He had a job to do; find the Slayer. That was simple enough but the master had insisted that he recruit some demons to help him along in his task. It was unnecessary in his book, since he was confident no one here could best him. But he knew his master. A polite insistence was, for all intents and purposes, equivocal to a command. There would be no arguments on his end. It gave him a chance to intimidate something other than humans. Maybe he could even get a decent workout over it. 

It took him an hour before he arrived at the doors of Willie's bar. Even before he entered, he knew it was a demon haunt. The preternatural energy radiated from the bar like heat billowing up from asphalt. A few powerful auras caught his attention. But for the most part, they were nothing but wastes of space. 

He pushed open the door and strolled into the bar. Dozens of eyes fell upon him immediately. He smiled knowingly. He could feel their unease at the stranger dare entering their premises. 

"If I would have known you all were waiting for me, I would have dressed more appropriately," he said, his eyes roamed the room, momentarily making contact with each face in the room. Most of them dropped their gazes and returned to their drinks and conversations. They were the intelligent ones. Of course, there were always a few who weren't so intelligent. 

"Look what we have here, fellas," a particularly large vampire said as he sauntered up to Seth with four minions in tow. The large vampire towered over Seth and looked the traveler up and down with unbridled disgust. 

"Well, looks like we have another poser, fellas," he told the vampires standing behind him. They snickered nervously. _At least they aren't as brazenly daft as this guy, _Seth mused. He stared into the eyes of the one furthest to the rear. The vamp refused to meet his eyes and Seth knew he was young. He couldn't have been turned more than a few weeks ago. One of these bozos must have turned him and now they were his lifeline, his family. In fact, the kid, with his overly curly hair and thick eyebrows reminded Seth of his brother, James. And for an instant, Seth felt a pang of longing rise within him before he brushed it away. _Can't be feeling sorry for my prey, now can I, _he smiled internally. 

The large vampire was still yapping his trap and Seth watched him though he paid him no mind. That was, until something caught his ear. 

"What did you say?" Seth demanded, taking a step up to the vampire. 

"I said," the vampire repeated, "are you also one of the Slayer's lapdogs?" He puffed out his chest. "I guess the bitch likes her men…scratch that…her vampires, blond. And docile. You're probably just as helpless against humans as the other one." The large vampire laughed heartily and three of his minions laughed more confidently. 'James' still stood quiet, his eyes not looking up. 

"Helpless," Seth reiterated with a smirk. The laughter ceased immediately as more eyes turned to the confrontation. Everyone had heard the tone in Seth's voice and knew business was about to pick up. He took another step to the large vamp until they were eyes to chin. He closed his eyes, a look of serenity etched on his face. 

"You want to know what helpless is?" He asked the vampire before continuing. "Helpless is five fledgling vamps picking a fight with someone whom they should look at and know not to fuck with…" and that was when the shit hit the fan. 

With a speed that defied description, Seth struck. He sidestepped to his right and decapitated the vampire to the left of 'Big Mac' with a roundhouse kick to the neck. Before that vamp was dust, he spun and planted a sharp elbow to the solar plexus of a second vamp, doubling the minion over in pain. He turned him to ash with a vicious chop to the back of the neck. 'Big Mac' finally reacted and Seth shattered the large vampire's ribs with a well-placed kick. He was going to save the big one for last. But the distraction was enough for the third vampire to land a blow. The punch only grazed the top of Seth's head and he knew he was lucky. The force behind the punch was awesome and he staggered back. _This guy is a fighter, _he thought to himself as he lashed out with a punch of his own. Surprisingly, the vamp, which sported a crewcut, parried it and delivered a bone-shattering body shot. Seth was stunned but immediately spun and shot his leg out. It connected with the side of 'Crew-Cut's' knee and the sickening rendering of bone and cartilage was drowned out by the vampire's screams of agony. Seth ran up to the kneeled form and put him in a front face lock. He struggled until a hard tug from Seth ripped his head off, turning him into dust. 

The crowd of onlookers stared in disbelief at the scene before them. This stranger had just taken out Primus and his gang in less than ten seconds without a scratch on him. They all trembled except for two pair of eyes seated in the corner, obscure from sight. 

Seth looked down at the three dust piles before him, his fists still clenched. He felt the eyes boring into him with a combination of astonishment, respect, and most important of all, fear. But there was also something else. Someone, rather, a couple someone's' eyed him with interest. He turned to look but the muffled cries of 'Big Mac' reminded him that he still had some unfinished business to attend to. 

He walked casually over to 'Big Mac' and hoisted him up by the lapels of his jacket. 

"Pathetic," he spat at the injured vampire that clutched his ribs. 

"Pl…please don't! I'll do anything. Just don't…" 

"Don't what? Kill you? Can't even say the words. You are absolutely pathetic," he dropped him to the ground and he whimpered in both pain and fright. Seth walked over to 'James', who cowered against the bar. He glanced at the short man behind the bar who had said nothing during the fracas. Seth smiled viciously at the man. 

"Hi…hi ya doin," the man said, smiling back timidly. "Can I offer you a pint of O-negative? Or maybe some AB?" 

"What's your name, little man?" Seth asked, resting his forearms on the bar. 

"Willie…I'm the owner of the place." He stuck a shaking hand out as if offering a flag of truce. Seth looked the hand up and down and turned his back to Wily. 

"Well, Willie. I have some advice for you. The next time you speak to me, make sure I have spoken to you first," he said, an undeniable air of malice audible in his tone. He walked over to 'James' and put an arm around the frightened vampire. He guided 'James' over to the still downed 'Big Mac' before addressing the newly turned vampire. 

"So, what's your name?" 

"R…r..Randy," he choked out. 

"Randy, huh? Well, you know what Randy; I don't like that name. I like James a lot better. In fact, you look more like a James anyway. So from now on, I'm going to call you James," he craned his neck to look into 'James'' eyes. "Is that cool with you, James?" The vampire nodded nervously, studying his fidgeting hands. 

"Great, I'm glad we've got that settled. Now, James, I want to ask you something. Is this sack of shit," he pointed to 'Big Mac' who cowered on the floor, "the reason you're all bumpy up here?" he tapped 'James' on the forehead.

"Ye…yeah, sir."

"So what is his name?"

"P…p…Primus."

"Primus?" Seth asked in disbelief. He laughed out loud and slapped his hand against 'James'' back. The scared vamp stumbled forward but stayed on his feet. Seth didn't notice as he was bent over in almost hysterical laughter. He finally calmed enough before he could speak. "Primus?! Are you named after the group? I mean they were _so _over years ago. I mean, I know I have their fiftieth anniversary Microdisc but," He stopped when he saw 'James' looking at him, perplexed.

"Oh, forgot when I was," he said and returned his stony gaze to the downed vampire who began to rise to his feet. 

"So, Primus," he said, putting his hand on the vampire's shoulder, "wanna tell me again whose helpless?"

"Fuck you," he spat. Seth calmly squeezed the vampire's shoulder. He instantly fell back to his knees as Seth ground his bones together. Surprisingly, he didn't scream. His demon face only twisted in anger, hate, and pain. Seth eyed him intensely before breaking his grip. 

"Well, I see you have done quite the one-eighty from thirty seconds ago. What's up, someone give you a sip of courage juice while I was gone?" 

Primus' yellow eyes bore holes through Seth and the traveler laughed again.

"I won't beg for my life," he said simply. 

"What made you change your mind?" Seth asked, intrigued. 

"Fuck off," the vampire spat for the second time and struggled to his feet again. He rose to his full height despite the pain. Seth eyed the man suspiciously and had to re-evaluate his opinion of the man. At first glance, he had thought the guy was just a bully. All talk and no bite. But now…no, he was more than that. Maybe this Primus guy wasn't quite the waste after all. 

"Relax, Primus. I'm not going to kill you," the injured vampire's shoulders visibly relaxed. "That is as long as you do something for me."

"What?" he said with skeptical eyes.

"Tell me why you called me…what was that colorful phrase again? Oh yeah. 'One of the Slayer's lapdogs'," he said making air quotes around the last five words. 

Primus laughed but stopped abruptly when the pain hit him. He doubled over before gaining a grip on himself. "I mean look at you. The blond hair, the leather vest and black jeans." He looked Seth up and down, "and you even have the blasted scar." Seth unconsciously ran his finger over the scar but let Primus finish. " I thought you were another Spike clone." Primus finished with a smirk but stepped back when he saw the eyes of Seth glower. 

"Spike," he spat poisonously. _So that was her game, the bitch. _He thought murderously. _But why? _His demon fumed at the revelation but he quickly doused it. This was no time to get sidetracked. He had a job to do. And a point to make. 

He turned back to 'James'. He glared at the boy amiably. He put both his hands on the boy's shoulders before speaking. "You know, I had a brother named James once." His eyes clouded with the memories of a childhood lost too soon. "You remind me so much of him. I miss him," Seth said in a whisper. 

James was confused at the total change in character of the man. Seth had dropped his arms from the boy's shoulders and studied the ground. "What…what happened to him?" 'James' asked, consolingly. And that's when it happened. 

The occupants in the room had heard the whole conversation and all looked upon this big bad vampire that looked as if he were going to burst into tears. It was sickening. But even they were appalled at what he did next. 

Without taking his eyes from the ground, Seth shot his right hand forth and into 'James'' chest. The young vampire had no time for any response as Seth's hand emerged from his back. In his hand he clutched what was once the heart of the young vampire. Disbelief crossed his face before his dissolved into so many bits of dust. 

Seth stood there for a moment and examined his dust-covered arm as if seeing it for the first time. He then cast his eyes to the pile that was once 'James' and knelt down. His forearms rested on his knees before he replied to the fledgling's earlier question.

"I killed him," he said simply. 

No one spoke and several demons picked this moment to exit the bar with as little commotion as possible. Seth's eyes glossed over with memories of the past before he snapped back into the now. 

"Now," he said, addressing the remaining onlookers. "I'm looking for a few good men…or should I say demons. I'm looking for a girl. Bout yay high, blond hair, cute as a button. Calls herself the Slayer…"


	9. Gotta Have Faith

FAMILY TIES 9

It had been an interesting scene when Spike joined the four women in the living room. Tara and Willow were curled up together on the couch. The former gave him a knowing wink and whispered something to Willow and they laughed in unison. He smiled sheepishly at the couple and turned his eyes toward Buffy. She was curled up in the recliner, her eyes intensely studying a woman's magazine. He smirked and drifted over to the Slayer. Dawn sat on the floor next to Buffy, her long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle. He gave her what was supposed to be a fleeting glance before turning his attention back towards his prey. That was, until he got a good look into the teenager's eyes. Her lust-filled eyes at that. 

"Nibblet," he said as casually as he could. Willow and Tara were lost into one another's eyes, trading lovers' whispers and Buffy was still engrossed in her article. It was obvious that the other three occupants hadn't picked up on Dawn's lecherous glares at the vampire's bare chest. _What to do? _He thought, drawing closer to the transfixed girl. _Hey, I'm evil. The Big Bad. Might as well have some fun with it._ Without any more of a hesitation, he bent down to look at Dawn and pulled from his repertoire the most seductive smile he could muster. He knew it was wrong, considering the girl was almost like a surrogate sister to him. Of course, 'almost' wasn't exactly blood-ties, thus he allowed himself this luxury. 

"Enjoy what you see?" he asked, loud enough for both her and Buffy to hear. He had cocked his head so that the slayer thought he was talking to her and she quickly buried her eyes further into the magazine.

"I…uhhh…" Dawn stammered as her face glowed ten shades of red. He could see her throat working overtime to generate a twinge of moisture to no avail. 

"I…I'm thirsty. Anyone else thirsty? I'm gonna get something to drink. Anyone else thirsty?" she repeated, mortified that she was caught in the act. She hustled out the room, receiving curious glares from the three remaining women. 

"What was that about?" Buffy asked, averting her eyes from the pale skin of her sometimes lover hovering below her.

"Don't know," Spike replied innocently. But his look was anything but. Buffy could feel his eyes on her, dissecting every inch of her body, remembering every curve, every touch, every scream…She buried her face even further into the magazine's pages.

"Whatcha readin', luv?" he asked casually, purposely brushing his hand against her bare foot. She shivered noticeably at the touch. 

"Cosmo," she said, as noncommittally as possible. 

"Hmmm," he said thoughtfully. 

"What now?" she asked, finally looking up.

"I'm all about the experimentation," he gave her a lascivious look, "but readin' a magazine upside-down seems kinda…I don't know, kinky." Buffy furrowed her brow for a moment before it dawned on her what he was talking about. She looked up fearfully at the couple on the couch to see if they had noticed the exchanged. 

They did. 

Spike actually laughed aloud. He had thought Dawn's blush had been bright but this…this was utterly nuclear in comparison. He thought to let it go, but it was so hard. _Why not! _He thought wryly. 

"You seem tense, luv," he said, maneuvering behind. Before she could move, his placed his hands on her shoulders and started to massage her.

Any words Buffy intended were caught in her throat. _My God, _a part of her said, as his strong yet delicate hands danced and kneaded her tight muscles. She knew the magic that he possessed in those hands but not like this. His deft fingers worked the base of her neck and Buffy was lost in the moment. She closed her eyes her head drooped forward and the magazine slipped from her hands. She had forgotten about the two witches in the room, staring curiously at her. And she didn't notice the low moans that escaped her lips nor her hand that had crept up between her breasts and stroked her own skin seductively. 

"Gee, why don't you two just get a room," Dawn said sardonically. She leaned against the way, arms crossed with a big glass of juice held casually in one hand. She looked at the two secret lovers with the mock indignation only a teenager could muster. 

When Buffy had heard Dawn's voice, it took all that she was not to scream in surprise. She whipped her neck around in Dawn's direction, simultaneously slapping Spike's hands away. Aside from a "bloody hell", he said nothing else. Buffy looked at her sister, ready to say something when she felt two extra pair of eyes zeroing in on her. Mortified, Buffy turned to Tara and Willow on the couch. The blond witch smiled at her knowingly while the red head's mouth was plastered in an 'O' expression. Though she had wanted to reprimand Dawn for her implications, Buffy figured that silence would give the least away. She didn't know how wrong she was. 

"What?" Dawn exasperated, "It's not like I don't know…" 

"Know what?" Buffy interjected defensively. To his credit, Spike stood quietly, his face a picture of naivete. 

_Let's see her get out of this pinch, _he thought to himself. Finally, it was going to be out in the open. No more taking crap from Xander about playing up on Buffy. Now, he had something to rub in the whelp's face. At that thought, a part of him was ashamed because he had already anticipated Xander's reaction to the news and it wasn't going to be pretty…

"C'mon, Buff," Dawn replied in her overly annoyed tone, "everyone knows something is going on between you two. I mean the late nights, the bug eyes you get anytime his name comes up…" but she never finished as Buffy snaked her arm around her sister's waist and 'escorted' her into the kitchen. "Hey," was all the younger Summers managed before disappearing across the kitchen's threshold once more. 

Thoroughly entertained for the evening, the vampire plopped himself in the recently vacated recliner, his long legs thrown haphazardly across the side. His right arm dangled off the side while his left hand was comfortably tucked behind his head. _Wonder what Buffy's sayin to the bit. It's not like she's stupid. Probably the smartest 'o the lot. Just tell her Buff, get it over with. Clear your conscience. _

He chuckled to himself at the last thought but was broken out of his reverie by a soft voice calling his name. He turned to see a rather distraught Willow leaning forward.

"Yeah, Red?" he asked, a lopsided grin on his face. 

"What…I was wondering. I mean, Dawn…and…and you. I mean Buffy. Not that it's any of my business but…are you…I mean you and Buffy," she motioned with her head obscurely, "you know. You know what I mean by 'you know'?" She paused. "You know?"

"Know what?" came a familiar voice from the foyer. Willow and Tara turned their heads toward the sound while Spike only groaned. 

"Well if it isn't my favorite friend. The Billy Idol wannabe," Xander said as he took a seat on the edge of the couch. 

Spike rolled his eyes and sighed unnecessarily. "You're one to talk, Brick Boy." He righted himself in the chair and stared at Xander intently. "So, tell again; what's it like to be the Count's sweet little trollop?" He leaned back, displaying his most arrogant airs, "Dyin' to hear it, really. Course you may wanna wait til the women are put to rest, mate. Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself with all the sordid details. From what I hear, the Count engages in all sorts of nasties with his minions." He chuckled softly and ran a hand through his hair. 

The tension in the room was palpable and for the third time in the span of ten minutes, a beet-red face stared up at the vampire. Rather down at him, as Xander stood, fists clenched at his sides. He ignored Willow's hand as she tried to usher her oldest friend back to his seat. 

"You know, dead-boy, you really talk a lot for someone who couldn't hurt me even if I laid out in front of that dumpster that you call a car and begged you to make me a permanent part of the concrete." Xander's fury was barely contained that further added to the deliciousness of the situation. 

"Touchy, Harris? Guess I hit a sore spot with you, no? Or was that Dracula that hit…" Spike didn't finish his sentence as Xander grabbed the half-nude vampire by the shoulders and hoisted him up. 

"You know, blonde bombshell, one of these days, someone is gonna be carrying a stake and trip and fall with it right into your chest," he spat. Spike only smirked before slapping Xander's hands away effortlessly. He received an uncomfortable shock for his efforts. Xander rubbed his forearm where Spike had struck him but laughed nonetheless.

"Awww, the widdle biddy vampire get a nasty shock to his peroxide-filled head?" 

Spike massaged his palm against the light migraine thumping between his temples and smiled. "Truth hurts, doesn't it," a single step and the man and vampire were practically nose to nose. Any trace of amusement on Spike's face had vanished. "And about the stake thing, you're bloody well right. One of these days, one'll have my name on it. Either that or a good old fashion sun bath. But," he lowered his voice menacingly, "I'd wager that before that happens this sodding chip will be history. And if you are still around then, I might take it upon myself to visit you a little payback." Neither moved nor dared break eye contact and the two women on the couch only looked at one another. All throughout the barb they had unsuccessfully attempted cooling the tempers. And the demeanor of the two men didn't quite hint at a jovial reconciliation. 

Just as the room felt as if it were going to overflow with hostility and angst, Buffy returned, followed by a glowing Dawn. Taking in the scene, she rushed over to the standoff and placed her hands on her hips. The weight of her gaze was enough for both men to immediately crane their necks in the slayer's direction. There she was, in all her glory, anger and frustration. She was hot and it was enough for both men to know it was time to back down. 

"Hey, luv," Spike cajoled, attempting to get back into her good graces. Buffy rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"If I see you two one more time tonight attempting to see who has the biggest…" she paused and had the graciousness to look embarrassed, but it lasted only a moment. "Trust me boys. You do _not _want to annoy me anymore tonight." She hurled razors at the two men before sitting back in the recliner in a huff. Spike only smiled at her, his own tension melting away. He walked over to the recliner and, though knowing he was pressing his luck, sat on the chair arm. He was surprised when Buffy did not push him away or slam him with a few dishearteningly choice words. 

"So, where's Buffy-bot 2.0?" Xander questioned. Though he had received the short version of the story, his first instinct was that Spike had made another toy to play with and it was broken. He sat next to the Wiccas all his energies focused on Spike. He looked mighty comfortable snuggled close to Buffy like that. Xander smiled inwardly, waiting for his former crush to hoist the vampire and his haughty 'tude right out the door of casa Summers. 

Buffy stared forlornly at the coffee table that separated her from her two oldest friends. Her and Spike, that was. She sighed, dejectedly. Xander and Willow were two of the most important people in her life and she cherished their friendship. But even that wasn't enough to make her happy. And though she loathed admitting it, the undead figure sitting inches from her was responsible for sparking a flicker of life within her. She had told Spike being with him made it all simpler. And in a way it did. But it was more than that. The way he made her feel inside, both physically and emotionally, were left out of the breakup speech. How could she tell him if she couldn't admit to herself how terrifying it was to long for him like she did? She had tried to contain it to just the physical realm, unsuccessfully. He had gotten to her, injected himself into her and now…now she couldn't get rid of the loneliness that shadowed her when he was not around. He had been right all along on many occasions. Through his eyes, she was as transparent as a window without glass. Boy, was he right. She wanted and craved him. What scared her most was the fact that she was beginning to see that she _needed _him. 

"Can we get this show on the road?" Dawn said, trying her best to convey her boredom. Spike cast an eye toward him and she smiled. No, smiled wasn't a strong enough word. She was beaming! _Did the slayer…? No, she wouldn't have told Nibblet. Would she? Would she be happy about that? _

He shook the questions from his head. Right now, there were more important things to discuss. 

"Right, then," he said and began pacing the room. "Well, I don't know too much about her. Found her at the top of the bluff, naked as a jay bird, in pretty bad shape," he hesitated. "Bloody weird though."

"What?" Xander asked in contempt.

"Well, here I am, my duster draped to the ground and everything and still I get soaked. This little bit though," he pointed to the ceiling, "was dryer than the Sahara." They looked at him, not grasping the meaning. Spike sighed, irritated. "Bloody hell, people, work with me. What happens when it rains? You get wet." He paused, searching for a proper metaphor that even Harris could grasp. "Okay, now think about when you boil water. What happens to it?"

"It converts to its gas state," Willow chimed after a momentary silence. 

"Now, what happens when a surface is already at the boiling point and water is introduced?" He eyed Willow. 

"Well, if the surface is that hot, then the liquid will turn to steam almost as soon as it hits."

"Right. And that's how I found the bint. She…"

"That's impossible," Xander chirped eagerly, getting the gist of Spike's analogy. He was looking for a way to demean Spike and the vampire's obvious lack of knowledge of the ins and outs of human endurance. "Even you dea…" he caught Buffy's warning glare, "…Spike, even you know that someone's body temperature couldn't get that high without them turning into barbecue mess."

"Yeah, it's impossible. And this is a Hellmouth," Buffy interjected. "Impossible and Hellmouth don't quite fit in the same sentence. Plus, how do we know if she's human?"

"We..well, she really did look the part," Tara said softly. 

"And so does Spike," Buffy countered. The vampire looked at her indignantly. Buffy smiled affectionately at him and his features softened. She had never looked at him like that, let alone with people actually around. He didn't comment but stored the feeling coursing through him for a later date. 

"The point is," she continued, "that we don't know anything about her. Well, aside from the fact that she has an obvious fixation with Spike," Xander was about to comment before Buffy raised her voice, "and an obvious dislike for Sunnydale's residential slayer. I mean we don't know what she is, where she's from. We don't even know her name." 

"Faith," said a small yet strong voice from the steps. All eyes turned to the source. She stood in the open, arms crossed. She wore a black tank top and gray sweatpants, obviously swiped from Buffy's closet. A bare foot tapped impatiently on the hardwood floor while everyone, including Spike, looked in awe. He had been around her the longest but she didn't carry any type of fire within her. But she sure as hell did now, and it was eerie. Not because they were afraid, rather that everything about her bore an uncanny resemblance to their own Buffy. 

"What?" Buffy asked, the first to recover. 

"Faith. That's my name," she walked into the middle of the room, not hiding her aggravation in the least. "Did you or did you not ask me my name?" Her eyes bore through Buffy. But the rustled slayer regained her resolve and stood, her patience gone. 

"What is your problem?" Buffy demanded, her anger clouding the fact that this girl, for all intents and purposes, was the spitting image of her. 

"You, you nit," she retorted, taking a step toward the slayer. 

"Look, _girl. _My aching jaw has already told me that much. But my question is why." For a moment, the girl's anger seethed as though she was about to lose herself in it. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it dissipated and was replaced by an infinite sadness that was difficult to take. For no apparent reason, a wave of guilt inundated Buffy. 

"What did you say?" Buffy asked the girl who had put her head down. She had spoken in a whisper that only Spike could have heard. Buffy put a hand on the girl's shoulder and had to fight to pull it away. The girl's despair was evident through the intimate skin contact. Buffy forced herself to continue and raised the girl's chin up to see into her eyes. When Buffy looked into the blue-green embers, her mind screamed to turn away. They were filled with love, hate and longing. And fear. 

Tears raced down the girl's tanned face and Buffy held her gaze. She didn't realize that she too was crying. "What did you say?" She asked the girl, this time her voice gentle and comforting. 

"You promised," she choked out. Only Buffy and Spike were close enough to hear her. The vampire had waved the others off before they had a chance to smother the girl. Even a very reluctant Xander complied. 

"Promised what, baby bit?" Spike asked. She looked timidly over at him and smiled nervously. 

"Sh…she promised. But she didn't…she," the girl turned back to Buffy, "you left me." The girl immediately turned away as Buffy's hands dropped. _You left me._ Those three words hit Buffy in a spot that was all too familiar. She understood the grief and pain going through the girl's head. Angel. Riley. Her dad. Giles. Thanks to them, the slayer was intimately familiar with the ache inside of being left by those that supposedly loved you. 

"Family's not supposed to leave," she whispered. "Especially…"

"Especially what?" Buffy asked desperately. She knew that whatever the answer was, she wasn't going to like it. 

The girl turned around, her face stained with tears. The sadness was there but was coupled with something else as well. It wasn't hate but a resigned anger…and disappointment. 

"Especially you."

"Why me?" Buffy pled. "Why me? Who am I to you? Who are you?" 

The girl laughed bitterly. 

"I already told you who I am. Faith. Faith Joyce Summers. Your beloved daughter." 

***Am I cruel? Well, several things will be answered in the next chapter, Revelations. It should be up in a week.***


	10. Revelations I

***Note: This chapter was so big that I had to divide it up into two parts***

***Summary: The gang reacts to the identity of the girl. Seth converses with two interesting people***

CHAPTER 10

The silence in the room was staggering. It was as if all the oxygen had been siphoned out as the group of onlookers held their breaths, transfixed. There had been no gasps of surprise, no witty remarks to break the tension or exasperated huffs of disbelief. 

For once, everyone was speechless. 

The girl patiently studied the six faces gaping at her in astonishment. She smiled inwardly her mother's…no, at Buffy's bubbled eyes. She would not call her 'mother'. After what she had done, all maternal privileges had been revoked. Her eyes traveled to the equally disbelieving expressions of the Scoobies to her left. Despite her animosity towards the whole situation, a tingle of sadness bubbled through her. She smiled sweetly at Xander; she never had the chance to meet him. Willow and Tara; it had been more than five years since their sacrifice. Her gaze drifted over to the longhaired brunette holding the glass, her eyes wide with excitement. Dawn. So sweet and innocent now. Faith wanted to cry for the dark path awaiting Buffy's sister. Notwithstanding that, she hoped that her presence could somehow change that. She prayed silently for small miracles.

And of course, there was her rock; Spike. 

"What did you say?" he whispered, the first to break the silence. She stifled a grin. He was always the first to recover. 

"I said that my name is Faith and I'm this woman's daughter," she said, her eyes falling back to the Slayer. The words were spoken with undisguised bitterness. But there was something else buried within the tone. Something that was as visible to Faith as her hostility was to Buffy. Hope. Longing. Family. 

"Sorry for playin' the devil's advocate, luv, but you can't be her daughter," Spike said, his words devoid of conviction. 

Faith laughed tiredly. She turned un-hostile eyes to the vampire. "Look at this face. Look at hers. I mean, you _can_ see the resemblance, can't you?" "Well…yeah, but that doesn't mean much, luv. That's to say that we _are _on a Hellmouth and weird things happen on…" Spike paused, "do you know where you are?" 

She sighed, annoyed. A very Buffy-like trait, he thought. "Yes, I know where we are. 1630 Revello Drive. Sunny-hell, California. Home of the Boca Del Inferno, better known as a Hellmouth." Her agitation disappeared and her eyes became serious, "I grew up here."

"Grew up here?" Buffy finally asked, her voice a shell of its usual vibrancy. 

Faith smiled longingly and toured the living room. Everything was so different, yet still the same. The mantle where she had broken her mothe…Buffy's crystal bears. The coffee table broken when a tickling lesson from Spike had gotten out of hand. And the couch where she first said 'mommy'. 

It was too much. Tears streamed down her face at the memory of happier times. She collapsed on the couch, hugging her arms tightly against her petite body. Faith knew the trip would require her to deal with nearly faded memories of times of content. The three years since she had seen him die and her mother--and Buffy, taken had depleted her of all hope. She had fought and killed thousands of demons before the Master had finally caught up with her. Faith shivered at the thoughts of her nine months at the hands of the Master's favorite lieutenant, Seth. The things he had done to her…

"Noooo," Faith screamed. She was oblivious to her fingers digging into the flesh of her bare arms. Blood pooled around her nails and down her arms. She barely registered a gentle voice and loving touch envelop her. 

"Shhhh, it's alright," Buffy cooed. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Buffy didn't know why, but felt it had been important to say that. She lifted Faith up into a tight hug. At first, the distraught girl refused comfort until Buffy ran her hands through the girl's hair. It was enough to melt Faith into the tiny slayer's loving embrace. 

"It's okay, pet," Spike assured, kneeling before both women, "me and Buffy here'll take care of you." He didn't even try to hide the torrent of emotions wracking his soulless body. It was difficult enough for his eyes to travel across her scarred body but to sit through her cries of agony only steadied his resolve to kill whoever was responsible for her current condition. 

"I can't go back," Faith choked out. "I can't. I know I'm supposed to, but I can't." She buried her face deeper into Buffy's chest. 

"Why not, sweetie?" Buffy asked, unsure of what to say. 

"Because you're not with me," she managed between heaves. She looked up into Spike's sympathetic eyes. "And you're dead…" it was all that she got out before she was again overtaken with uncontrollable wails of despair. 

It took the better part of an hour before Faith had calmed down enough for Buffy and Spike to relax their embrace. Spike had joined in on the mother-daughter reunion minutes after Faith's second breakdown. Whatever the reason may have been, Spike was drawn to the girl even more. He had wrapped his strong arms around both women. Buffy smiled at him warmly, affectionately, the second time of the evening. But for once, he didn't dwell on the possibilities. Rather, he directed all his energies toward the whimpering mass huddled between he and Buffy. For the better part of the hour, he had rubbed concentric circles in her back, while he left the few comforting words spoken to the slayer. He was amazed at how natural Buffy was in soothing the girl. He had never seen her so tender. An unknown warmth spread throughout his limbs. Love surrounded him and he did not know its origin. All he knew was that it was there. It was almost enough to shield his mind from the revelation that Buffy would go on to have a child. A child conceived in love. It was hard to think about but he cast aside his emotions. There was always time to brood later. 

Dawn was the first to reappear from the kitchen. The Scoobies had retreated to its confines shortly after the second outburst of tears. They had found their presence somewhat intrusive on the trio in the living room. Words were few and far between them with the obligatory "Do you think she's telling the truth?" thrown out on a handful of occasions. 

"I…I brought you some water," Dawn said to Faith. She had waited to get the okay nod from Spike and Buffy before proceeding. 

"Thanks, Dawn," Buffy said before setting the glass on the table. Her arm was still draped around the trembling form of Faith. Dawn smiled sweetly at her sister and made to retreat back into the kitchen. 

"Don't go," Faith called. Dawn jumped at the sound of the girl's husky voice. It was filled with such hurt and pain that Dawn thought she, too, was going to burst into tears for the second time. 

Dawn looked back to Buffy and Spike, unsure of what to do. Again, they nodded their consent, and the teenager sat on the other side of the table, knees drawn to her chest. Faith reached a trembling hand out to the water. It shook in her hand and threatened to spill. But instantaneously, two hands, one cool, the other warm, enveloped hers, steadying the glass. The moment was almost too much for the slight girl and she felt herself tumbling down into the shadows of despair again. She bit her trembling lip, drawing blood. Pain always had a way of rescuing her from her despair. She had to be strong, collect her thoughts. She had to tell them. There was so much they needed to know. 

She studied at the concerned features of Spike and smiled. It was fleeting as she remembered the warrior's fate at her mother's hand. Yes, there was a great deal to discuss. Just not everything. 

"You can bring the others in," Faith informed after a deep drink of her water. Where to begin? Maybe the reason she was here. Of course, she really didn't know why she was here. She had thought that Emerald had wanted her away from torture, but what was it that she said? 

_Only through the power contained in this locket will she be able to withstand the indwelling of the First within her. _

Faith grimaced, trying to ascertain Emerald's meaning. She fingered the locket that was around her neck…

"Oh no," she said, standing in alarm. Buffy and Spike both stood in accordance.

"What is it, luv?" he asked. 

"My…my locket. I had a silver locket around my neck."

"Is it important? Buffy questioned. 

"Yes," Faith replied harshly. She looked at Buffy. The slayer had been taken aback by the disdain in her voice. Faith put an arm on the slayer and smiled weakly, "Yes it is important. Not only is it my only way back, but I need to use it to prevent my world from falling apart."

"Oh is that all?" Xander chimed, following Tara and Willow from the kitchen. "For a minute there, I was thinking something could actually be normal around here. But hey, a nice little silver locket number that holds the fate of the world in its itty bitty clasps, well," he shrugged, "well, I guess that is normal for this place."

Faith laughed humorlessly, "If you only knew. If you only knew." She plopped back onto the couch, emotionally drained. Spike sat down next to her. 

"We'll find it, don't worry. I promise you. I won't let you down, baby bit," he said, his eyes filled with determination. 

"You never have," she said softly, putting her small hand to his cheek. The coolness of his flesh against her warmth had always soothed her. She dropped her hand when she felt Buffy's penetrating eyes boring into her back. Faith smiled inwardly. _Jealous? _She gazed at Spike lovingly before planting a quick kiss on the cheek. She then made her way to the center of the room. 

"Take a seat, pets," she said, regaining her earlier flare, "I've got a lot of stuff to lay on you." 

Seth sat in the corner of the bar, hands resting in his lap. A cocky grin was fixed to his face as he observed the two figures in front of him. He had made his way over to their table after sending a limping Primus and a handful of other demons out searching for the slayer. He knew where she would be and he had sent them there. Except for the small detail of bringing the slayer, _his _slayer, in unharmed, they had complete autonomy. Now, he listened to the prattling of this pathetic, yet powerful warlock and a very interesting woman. 

Even with his night vision, Seth failed to make out her face under her cloak. It was as if she was void of form. But he didn't need to see her to feel the power coursing through her veins. It was like nothing he had felt before. It was evil, pure and simple. And for the first time, Seth felt a pang of fear. 

"You fear me, Vampire," she said, interrupting his thoughts. It wasn't a question. "That is good. You should fear that which your nature was born from."

"Well that may be the case, deary," he quipped, leaning forward, "but I didn't come over here for you to tell me what I may or may not be afraid of. I came over here because…"

"You want the slayer," the disfigured man interrupted. He laughed bitterly. "If you'd only come a few months earlier. I had the ins on her friend. Had her comin' to me, beggin for more. I miss my sweet, little strawberry." 

Seth snorted with disdain. "Whatever bro," he waved the dark-haired man off. "You are not the reason I came here. She is." His gaze ground into the other man's eyes, goadingly. 

"I understand that," the warlock spoke, his fury rising at the lack of respect, "I also understand that you are a vampire," the last word was spit out in contempt. 

"Great, he's not too mental," Seth mocked. 

"And as a vampire talking to a practitioner of the dark arts, I advise you to watch your tongue. Lest you are indifferent with losing it."

Seth's brow furrowed with concentration before he exploded with excitement. 

"I finally know who you remind me of. Mickey Mouse. What the fuck was that flick called? Oh yeah, Fantasia. See, the thing is, little Mickey wanted to play big bad sorcerer when the master left. Thought that messing with the big bad stuff wasn't so hard." He lowered his voice menacingly. " You know what happened in the end, son? He got in way over his head and a nasty slap on the wrist for his trouble. He was lucky his master was so nice. I'm not. So don't get yourself into shit you can't get out of…" Both men stood simultaneously and the warlock uttered several unintelligible words before jagged edges of light struck Seth in the center of the chest. 

Nothing happened. 

The vampire laughed tauntingly before striking out with his inhuman speed. His hand clasped around the warlock's neck, pinning him against the wall. The man's feet flailed weakly, desperate to find purchase where there was only air. He clawed at the vampire's steel grip, the world blackening more each moment. Seth pulled the strangling warlock toward him and whispered playfully to him.

"Did I forget to mention, trick master, that a magic ward protects me? Yep. You can throw light shows and chairs at me to your heart's content. It won't matter. Oh, and I've even got a nastier treat for would-be stakers." He released his grip and the warlock fell helplessly to his knees, gasping. 

"Impressive," the veiled woman said. "I didn't even sense such a ward on you."

"Well, the spell caster was powerful like that," he said, taking his seat. 

"Indeed," the woman said, concealing her dismay. She should have been able to detect any magical barriers and yet she had been ignorant. One thing the vampire had said was right: who ever had cast that spell was powerful all right. Just more powerful than he knew. 

"So," Seth remarked, rubbing his hands together eagerly, "let's talk. Now, the way I see it, we can all profit from working together. Well, so long as Junior over here…"

"Rack," the rising man choked out.

Seth put his hands up in defense. "Sorry. So sensitive. Anyway, like I said we all can profit from this little arrangement. From what I can gather, Rack over here, though extremely tacky, wants his little 'strawberry' back. Me? All I want is the slayer-_my_ slayer-back in the best possible condition. Now, my midnight love, what is it that you want?" 

The woman chuckled softly and Seth was mesmerized by its litany. She leaned forward and removed her cowl. She was breathtaking. Her jet-black hair danced atop slim shoulders. Obsidian eyes peered out from under perfectly sculpted eyelashes. What little light reached the table glinted off her bronze skin. 

"What I want? What I want? Well, I'm not one to want more than is necessary. I just want the sister."

"The sister?" Seth questioned. Then it hit him. "Oh the pint size Summers. What's her name again?"

"Dawn."

"Oh, now I remember," he lied. In truth he knew little about Dawn save for the bits and pieces he had picked up from Emerald. "So, what do you want the kid for?"

The woman smiled seductively and Seth felt his demon cringe. There was something about her that just didn't sit well with him. 

"Who, or what, are you?" he heard himself ask.

"That's a difficult question. I have so many names. I myself sometimes forget," she joked. "However, I was originally known as the First."

"The First? The First what?" a recovered Rack inquired.

"In time, gentlemen, in time," her melodious laughter again filled Seth's ears. "But for our purposes, you may call me Jennifer. And as for why I want the kid; let's just say I owe the slayer."

***what do you think? Well, part two of Revelations will be up sometime tomorrow. I just have to edit it. Fair warning, it will be kind of a sad piece but some questions as to who Faith is will be revealed. (some, not all) Now could you be so kind as to tell me what you think***


	11. Revelations II

***Here's Part 2 of Revelations*** 

CHAPTER 11

The Scoobies were positioned intermittently around the room. Willow and Tara, looking angsty as ever, had taken Buffy and Spike's place in the recliner, with Tara sitting on the chair's arm. Xander leaned against the mantle, hands pocketed to hide any signs of fidgeting. Dawn had bravely taken a seat on the floor, closest to the girl, but far enough to give her space. They both sat with their legs folded over one another; elbows propped up on their thighs. Dawn's face rested comfortably in the palms of her hands. Spike sat on the couch with a pensive slayer. Lines of fatigue and concern were etched on her otherwise flawless face. Her posture was rigid and fear circulated through her. It took all that he was not to draw her close and whisper words of comfort to her, just as she had done earlier with Faith. He had made a promise never to leave her. And no matter how much she pushed him, he was going to be there. His vow was inclusive of all Summers', including the newest addition. 

Faith studied the intricate patterns of the carpet, trying her best to stall. _Who am I kidding, _she thought tersely. When Emerald had told her what she needed to do, she had salivated over the chance to confront her mother, Buffy. Her time at the hands of Seth was more than unbearable. He had reduced the world's only hope, the Slayer, to a ragged mess. She had been nothing more than a toy to him, to do whatever he wished. She shuddered at the thought, a wave of nausea bubbling within her. She did _not _want to think about that. Not now. Her suffering was insignificant to the destruction doubtlessly being wrought throughout her future world. 

She raised her head slowly, locking eyes with the only person in the room she held ambivalence toward. Buffy looked back at her, her concern indisputable. It was a far cry from the cold hopelessness she had seen the last time they had been face to face…

_"Look at me mother. Look at me!" Faith shouted at the broken form of Buffy Summers. The latter had done nothing while her daughter pummeled her into the ground. All she could do was whimper. And when Faith's arms grew weary, Buffy had crawled back to the spot he had once occupied. All that was left now was a pile of dust mingling with the heated winds. _

"Look at me, you bitch!" The younger girl screamed, hot tears barreling down her cheeks. She pulled Buffy up by the collar, shaking the older woman repeatedly. Finally, the wreck of a slayer looked at her daughter.

"Faith…" she forced out through her cracked jaw. "I'm so sorry." Faith wanted to scream and pound her more but couldn't. The look in Buffy's eyes had taken all the anger and hate away. All that was left was a hollow pain she knew they both shared…

Faith forced herself out of the unbearable memory and she automatically turned to Spike. That had been the last time she had seen him. She never even got a chance to say goodbye. She closed her eyes tightly, forcing the tears back. One rebel tear escaped and it ran parallel down the scar that marred her face. She took a deep breath, and lowered her head. 

"I'll tell you as much as I can. Not trying to screw up the future here. Anymore than it already is," she added tiredly. 

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked. "I mean, is it that bad?"

Faith snorted and again locked eyes with the slayer. She wanted her hate and anger to show but it wouldn't. She was so tired of hating. "Bad? It's worse than bad, mum," she looked away sheepishly, "Buffy. I mean with dozens of Hellmouths open in the good old terra firma…"

"Dozens?" Xander interrupted. "But how?"

Faith rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, whelp. I'll get to that if you'd be kind to respect the narrative flow." She winked at Spike after using his affectionate term for Xander. He smiled lightly though she knew he was holding back his amusement. "Anyway," she continued, "like I said, there are dozens of Hellmouths. Here. Montana. Alaska. Ohio. Florida. Texas. Maine. Louisiana. And a few more located in the States. They tend to be the smaller ones, however. Not like the big ones elsewhere. Don't really know why. May have to do with the Native Americans that lived here before the Good Old Euros came callin'. Not sure, never really asked Maria…"

"Maria?" Buffy chirped in again and apologetically put her hand to her mouth. Faith smiled. Ever the impatient one. They both were. Forty-plus years did nothing to change that. 

"Yeah. She was my girlfriend," she shot a seductive look at Tara and Willow before busting into cackles. She glanced around the room and saw that the joke didn't take. "Geez, give a girl a little break, I mean, traveling forty years…"

"Forty years?" Dawn said almost absently. Faith turned to her future aunt and smiled. The original nibblet. She had always spoiled Faith rotten. God, how she missed her. 

"Okay guys," Faith said, not without understanding, "I know some of this stuff I'm gonna tell ya is gonna be hard to swallow but please, can we hold questions to the end of story time?" They all shook their heads and she gave a genuine smile. But the minute gestures were enough to make her truly feel safe. 

"Now where was I? Oh yeah, Maria. Well, you see, Maria was my watcher."

"Watcher?" They all exclaimed in unison.

"Just like her father, Rupert Giles."

"Giles' daughter?" Faith had to smile at the flabbergasted looks on everyone's face. _I better just throw out any possibilities of an uninterrupted story, _she mused. _Scoobies at their best. _

"The British man had a daughter," Xander said to no one in particular. He held up his hands in dismay. "But that would mean he'd have to have had a…Okay, disturbing mental picture clouding my thoughts. Giles? With a daughter?"

"He is sorta, I don't know Xander, **human**," Dawn said sarcastically. 

"Yeah, but…I mean…c'mon Dawnster. It's _Giles_!" he pled. 

"Yeah, Watcher Boy's not dead, you know," Spike chimed.

"Unlike some people," Buffy added. She playfully shoved the vampire with her forearm, her hand coming to rest on his thigh. He was astonished when she did nothing to remove it. 

"We can talk about what Giles can and can't do later," Buffy said, taking charge again, "But right now, Faith has a story to finish."

The younger girl smiled sadly at the slayer when her face contorted into a frown. _I'm supposed to hate her, Faith. Remember what she did…_

"Right. Like I said, Maria was a watcher. _My _watcher," she watched their jaws drop. "Yes, people, I am a slayer. And I know, a slayer having a child is not what you would call an everyday event." She pondered that. "Well, actually, a once in a million type thing. It was prophesized, of course. I mean what isn't these days."

"What was the…prophecy?" Tara asked. "Do you remember?"

Faith thought about it. She stretched her legs out and leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. "Yeah, I do. Maria made sure not to hide anything from me," she said, shooting accusatory glances at both Spike and Buffy. Spike was taken aback, as it was the first time that the girl's eyes held anything but affection for him.

"Anyway, it goes something like _'From the body of the Slayer, twice crossed the beyond, shall come children of light…Within one, the blood of purity tainted, darkness abounds. The other, conceived in love, the fates rest upon.'_ That's all I remember." She didn't share the rest. Not with them and certainly not with herself. Because if she did, she would be just as responsible as her mother. 

The room was silent for several minutes. Faith took the time to gather her remaining thoughts. Emerald had warned her not to disclose everything to these people. Even through her anger, it was hard to keep the truth from her mother. 

"I have a daughter," Buffy whispered. And it was then that she knew. This wasn't a doppelganger from a parallel world or a work of evil. This was her daughter. She had come from her. _Conceived in love. _She stole a glimpse at Spike. 

"What about the father?" Spike asked, his words echoing Buffy's thoughts. He hoped that no one had heard the unspeakable pain he felt at the thought of Buffy loving someone else. He shook off the hurtful pang resonating deep within his stomach.

"I mean, is the bloke mentioned in the prophecy at all? Being the father and husband to slayers and all."

"No," she lied. "I never knew him. But…" she hesitated. 

"What?" Spike prodded gently. She looked up at him and it was all he could do not to run to her. The tenderness in her eyes let him know that she was no doubt a Summers. Only Summers' women had that effect on him. 

"I always looked to you as my father," and for the third time, the room went deathly quiet. Not even Xander dared break the moment between vampire and future slayer. 

Buffy, surprisingly was the first to recover. "Did I ever…tell you about him?"

"You didn't speak much about him, but I know you loved him," Faith winced as she felt the pain radiate from Spike's now rigid form. She knew each word was another twist of the stake in his heart, but she couldn't tell him the truth, Emerald had been adamant about that. 

"Was he human?" Spike asked, his voice carrying none of its usual flair. 

Faith bit her lip. _This is gonna hurt even more, Spike. I'm so sorry. _"No. He was a vampire."

Small gasps escaped from everyone's mouths. "Angel?" Willow hissed, speaking for the first time. Spike's eyes were the only ones that didn't turn to a teary eyed Buffy. 

"Angel," she echoed hollowly. 

"Buffy…" Willow consoled. 

"What happened to him?" she asked Faith. The young girl studied her legs, refusing to meet her future mother's gaze. She hated herself for having to do this. But it had to been done. What she didn't realize that for each granule of self-disgust she poured onto the scale, her anger towards Buffy slowly crumbled. 

"He died. You never told me how. Just that he did." That part had been true. Angel had died, though the shell that was his body still walked the earth. 

"Okay, then," Buffy said before the silence got too thick. "Tell up the rest."

"Like I said, since my father was a vampire, I have certain vampiric abilities."

"No reflection," Spike stated. 

"Yep."

"I saw her, or rather didn't see her, in the rear-view mirror," he replied sardonically. Only Buffy and Faith knew that he was putting on a show but they both remained quiet.

"I also have environmental adaptive abilities like vamps. Don't really get too cold or too hot. I'm not too crazy about holy water for some reason, either."

"Are you…" Dawn stuttered out. "I mean do you…"

"Have a soul? I know that I am like one-tenth demon. That may explain the holy water thing. But a soul? Don't know. But I don't think that matters much," she looked poignantly towards Spike. "Only thing that matters are your deeds. And your reasons behind 'em." She looked back to Dawn. "The thing is, Dawn, you always have a choice, no matter what. A soul doesn't make us good or evil. The choices we make decide that." She reached out and touched Dawn's exposed foot. "And no matter what bad choices we make, no matter how bad people think we are for those choices, we hold the key to our own redemption. As long as you exist, you can still strive for atonement. And that goes for everyone," her eyes locked with Spike's then Buffy. The latter got the not so subtle hint and dropped her eyes. 

"Faith," Dawn called. 

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"What are all those marks? And that tattoo thingy on the back of your neck?" She could tell the teen was uncomfortable asking but she did anyway. Besides, it was pertinent to everything that she had to explain. 

"Remember when I said that there were dozens of Hellmouths open throughout the world? Well, a man named Gabriel opened them. No, he wasn't a man. He was the most powerful vampire that ever lived. The things he could do…were incredible. I mean, he wasn't just your garden variety blood sucker…no offense," she said to Spike.

"None taken. Besides, who said that the Big Bad was ever garden variety." Everyone, including Xander had to smile at the comment. He nodded when Spike looked up at him. It was a truce of sorts. What Faith had said about choices really hit home and Xander knew he had to rethink his opinion on Spike. 

"But this guy was into the darkest of magic. I guess that him being a vampire allowed him to take the brunt of the effects better." She looked to the Wiccas for confirmation. 

"I…I think…she…I mean you, Faith, may be right," Tara spoke up. "What happens with magic and why people get addicted to it," she put a reassuring hand on Willow's tensing shoulders, "is two-fold. One is on a physical level and the other is on a more psychological level. Will…Willow was more along the lines of psychological. The rush of power, the feeling of being able to do anything." She gave a reassuring smile to Willow before continuing. 

"Darker magic, on the other hand, involve just as much a physical addiction as psychological. Maybe even more. That…that's why most people that get heavily into dark magic are lost. Most of the times, their bodies just whither away…"

"Like Senator Palpatine in 'Return of the Jedi'," Xander quipped. 

All eyes cast on Xander with admonishment. 

"And the King of the Pop Culture References awakens," Spike muttered. 

"Well…actually, Xander, that's a pretty good analogy," Tara said. "The thing is, with people, no matter how evil they are, cannot contain something tr…truly dark without consequences. All that dark power doesn't just flow idly through your veins. It feeds off the life of the person…sort of like a leech. But the person is usually too far-gone by then. With a vampire, though…"

"There is no real life force to feed off of," Willow finished. "But the demon part of a vampire must somehow satiate the flow of dark magic. But…"

"But the problem would be that the host would constantly crave power. Whether it be blood or de…destruction," Tara added. The small amount of tension between the two when the conversation had turned to magic was gone. The Wiccas hadn't even realized that their fingers were now intertwined with one another's. 

"And hence the reason for all the Hellmouths open. Gabriel draws power from these Hellmouths and from Emerald. She is almost limitless…"

"Emerald?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, she's the person that sent me back here."

"But…if she's working with this Gabriel guy…" Dawn let the question linger.

"I don't know, Dawn," Faith answered truthfully. Although she had a feeling that restitution for her deeds had been a part of it. Yet another detail Faith had to hide. If they really knew who Emerald was…

"So has anyone tried to take this Gabriel bloke down?" Spike asked, half-interested. He was so numb at Faith's revelations that he couldn't seem to care. _Might selfish of you, _he knew. But knowing it was selfish didn't change the way he felt. 

"Too many," Faith replied, her voice small. 

"Ummm, excuse me," Dawn interrupted, her eyes bright with wonder. "I know I said it awhile back and all, but we didn't finish. You say this happens forty years from now?" Faith nodded. "But how? I mean, I know Buffy's the slayer and all, but you mean to tell me that she'll still be going strong at like, what? Sixty?" 

Faith had to laugh at Dawn's rationalization. "Well, sweetie, that's true. But remember, this _is _a Hellmouth and your sister's not what you'd call normal. Even by slayer standards."

"Hey, slayer right here," Buffy broke in, animating wildly. "But she is right. How is that possible?"

"Well, when Willow brought you back that second time, you didn't come back all together human. It's not Willow's fault though," she added reassuringly. "Actually, I'd wager it was those pesky Powers That Be. Made you immortal, they did." Faith let it sink in a bit before continuing. "Now, don't go thinking you're Ms. Invincible all of the sudden," she gave Buffy a wry smile. 

"Great," Buffy said, leaning back into the couch, not noticing Spike wince as she finally removed her hand from his leg. "I'm gonna be a slayer at the age most people are into mandatory retirement," she thought for a moment. "Do I get any benefits?" she asked dryly. 

Faith laughed. "Mum, you're always…" she stopped at the use of 'mum'. No, it wasn't the use of the word but the feeling behind it. She and Buffy stared at one another, unanswered questions clouding their vision. Willow saw the unease and broke in.

"So…what about me and Tara? Are we two rockin' Wiccas of sixty as well…or are we resting up in a nice retirement home out in the country?"

Faith smiled sadly at the two Wiccas and everyone knew what that meant. Faith couldn't hide it, so she decided to tell the full truth at least once tonight. 

"You, both of you, were pretty much my aunts. You didn't live too far from us and you even taught me some bits of magic. Not very much though."

"What…what happened?" Tara asked. The sadness exuded by Faith was apparent.

"You died. Both of you. Saving our lives," she cast a meaningful glance at Buffy and Spike. "It was the first time that Gabriel had been able to find us. I was seventeen. He sent at least three dozen of his best warriors after us, not to mention dozens of other minions. And he was there as well. As good as we were, we were still outnumbered at least ten-to-one," she paused, lost in the bloodbath that was the beginning of the end of her hope for a good future. "I had just taken out six vamps and two Fyarl demons when one blind-sided me. My leg snapped and there I was, wrestling this thing in a tangle of dead bodies and dust. Even though I did manage to kill it, I was done for. But mum," her eyes flitted to Buffy then back to the ceiling, "she stood over me, protecting me. I don't know how many demons she killed but I could tell that she was almost done too."

"What about me, baby bit?" Spike asked. He was concerned about not being there when they needed him. He had always promised Buffy he'd never leave…

"We got separated. I vaguely remember you screaming our names. But Gabriel was in your way. Well, he was, and then he wasn't. I think it was Tara who 'pushed' him into the wall. When you finally got to us, you put me in your arms and made your way over to you," she was looking at Tara, " you were hurt pretty bad. And you, Willow, you had wiped out his royal guard-even though they were protected by a magic ward."

The Wicca smiled at that. "Cool." 

"But it was hopeless. They just kept coming."

"Couldn't they have done some type of spell to wack….you know, demons and all?" Xander asked. 

"Well, yeah, but Spike was there. He had said the same thing, willing to sacrifice himself to save his girls but we wouldn't have it. That's when Tara whisked us away." Tears were again streaming down Faith's eyes. She was so lost in the moment to notice that everyone else was also choked with emotion. "You told us that you loved all of us and…and that you'd always be with us in spirit. You told us to take care of one another and no matter what happened, remember that nothing was stronger than the love between us. Not even death…" she trailed off, unable to stay the sobs that cried out from within her. She covered her face and cried. Everyone had been so affected by the moment that only Dawn had the wherewithal to comfort the young woman. 

Dawn cooed her future niece with sounds of understanding. Words were meaningless right now and she had decided that her embrace was the best she could offer. She looked over to the couch where her sister stared at them with watery eyes, biting her thumbnails. Spike had scooted next to Buffy and put his arm around her. If not for the circumstances, Dawn would have smiled at how her sister melt into his body. 

"I…I didn't even get to say goodbye to Willow," she cried into Dawn's hair. The pain within Faith was not lost on Dawn. It wasn't a year ago that Buffy had died to save her. She had been helpless as her older sister told her what she had to do. Dawn prayed that she'd never feel that again. 

"What…about me?" Dawn heard herself ask. Faith's body tensed underneath the teenager, her arms tightening around Dawn's thin frame. She didn't answer for a long time. What could she say to Dawn? "Did I die?" Dawn prodded gently. 

"No," Faith replied. Her voice was still raw with emotion.

"Where was I? What happened to me?"

"Dawn…" Buffy said, trying to intercede. Whatever had happened to her sister, she didn't want to know. From the looks of Faith, it could only be bad. And there was only one thing she feared more than her sister dying…

"Was I…was I a vampire?" her voice was soft. If it weren't for the utter silence in the room, no one would have heard her.

"No," Faith said, hoping her words would offer comfort and an end to this particular line of questioning. It didn't. 

Dawn pushed Faith away to arms' length and looked her in the eye. But Faith would not meet the girl's gaze. That one gesture told Dawn what she had feared about herself during the whole Glory ordeal.

"I knew it. I told you," she looked to Spike, her eyes brimming with new tears.

"Told me what, pet?" Though it pained him to do so, he broke contact with Buffy and walked over to the two Summers', present and future, seated on the floor. 

"That I'm evil. Or at least not good. I mean, how can I be? I only hurt the ones I love," she didn't see Buffy shudder at the last statement.

Spike glanced to the downcast visage of Faith and ran a cool hand down her bare arm. The self-inflicted wounds were healed, the blood dry. Some of the pain they were both feeling dissipated with that simple touch. Some, but not all. 

He then took Dawn's tear-streaked face in both hands. His blue eyes locked onto hers. "Listen to me, bit. You haven't hurt any of us. It's rot to think that you are anything but a Summers' woman. Strong. Good. And willing to do anything for the ones you've loved," his face softened. "Point of fact is, dear old sis over there wasn't the first Summers I really loved." Spike could feel eyes on him but all that was important was Dawn. "Took me awhile to come around to her. What with the fist and fangs flyin' everytime we were around each other. But you," he held her chin between his thumb and forefinger, "you, had my heart the first time I saw you." He drew her towards him and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. 

Dawn was speechless. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell him how everyone got hurt that was around her. Him. Xander and Anya. Tara. Willow. Buffy. But there was someone even bigger that she had felt responsible for. And though Spike's words had touched her like none before, she could not let it go. 

"Mom," she croaked.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, joining them on the floor. 

"Mom died because of me." There, she had said it.

"Bollocks," Spike said immediately.

"No?" Dawn retorted harshly. The disgust she had with herself was suffocating and she felt as if she would die if she held it in any longer. "Then why did she get so sick out of the blue? Why, six months after I came here did she die?"

"Dawnie…" Buffy comforted, reaching out to her sister. But Dawn wasn't having it. She stood, her body trembling. 

"No! Stay away from me. All of you. Mom died because of whatever it is within me that Glory wanted so much. She died because of me," she could barely speak through her desperate sobs. "And no matter how hard I try and no matter what anybody says, I know in here," she pointed to her heart, "that if you all stay with me, the same will happen to you. I couldn't…I can't…" but she didn't finish. Instead, she turned and ran up the stairs, her feet pounding on the floor until there was a decidedly loud banging of a door slamming closed. 

"Dawn…" Buffy started but was held fast by a warm iron grip. 

"Let me," Faith said earnestly. The petite woman stood, her shoulders sagging slightly. "I know there's still a lot you don't know about me or Gabriel and his Order of Sigma," She took in their questioning gazes, "fill you in later. But not now. What I need from you now is to find my locket."

"It must have come off near where I found you," Spike said, focusing on their newest mission.

"Good. I need it. It's the only way I can get home." _And it's all that I have left of my true parents. _

"Speaking of home, do you know why you were sent here?" Buffy inquired.

"Later. I promise," though she didn't know the full reason herself, "but now, I need you to get that locket."

"It's more than your way home." Spike said. It wasn't a question.

"No," she said softly. "It's all that I have _left_ of home." And with that, she left the room and glided up the steps. 

***Well I hope the weeklong wait was worth it. And I hope it wasn't too angst-ridden. I'll try my best to get the next part up by Wednesday. The Chapter 12 will have Buffy and Spike patrolling in 'Backs Against the Wall'. Chapter 13, 'Choices', will have a very important conversation between Faith and Dawn…and of course some Spuffiness***

Kindly let me know what you think. 


	12. Backs Against the Wall

***just a little Spuffiness for those in need. 

***Disclaimer: Don't need one really, but you know whose characters are Joss's. If you haven't heard of em before, they're mine. 

CHAPTER 12

It was a little after seven before Buffy and Spike decided it was time to leave. Dawn's exit had occurred only ten minutes ago with Faith in tow a few minutes later. Buffy had followed Faith upstairs but respected her wishes to talk to Dawn alone. She still needed to change before going out, though. She threw on a pair of black hip huggers and a tight black tank top. She shrugged into some black boots and tied her hair into a short ponytail. Sneaking a peak at herself in the mirror made her laugh. She looked like a miniature Spike. She grabbed her black jacket from the closet to complete the ensemble and her black gym bag with an extra change of clothes and weapons. With all that in tow, she made her way down the steps. 

Spike waited patiently for her; his hands thrust deep within the pockets of his duster, his silver chain the only adornment across his chest. She had suggested that he borrow one of Xander's spare work shirts. It wasn't a surprise that both men adamantly refused such a venture. 

"Well, well," Spike said in his most seductive voice. He raised a scarred eyebrow at her deliciously. Most times it would have been enough to get her temperature up at the mere suggestions he intimated but it was different this time. Something was missing. She could see a hint of it in his eyes, though he hid it well. She put it aside for later and returned his flirt with a roll of her eyes he had no doubt come to expect. 

"What Spike," she breathed, feigning annoyance. She stood at the bottom step. It granted them the luxury of meeting eye to eye. It had been too long for both of them and her proximity to him had alleviated Spike of the disturbing images Faith's words had established in his mind. Forgotten were her words of a hopeless future or Peaches and Buffy creating life. He wanted nothing more than to take her now and shag her senseless. No, that wasn't quite the truth. He wanted more than that. He wanted to make love to her hard and slow. And he knew he wasn't the only one as the air vibed with her desire for him. Her breaths came in shallow pants and her heartbeat had elevated significantly. Her physical response to him was almost enough to content him with their previously 'physical-only' relationship. 

Almost. 

"Can't help but to think you got all spiffy just for me," he smirked. 

"Well, stop thinking that," she huffed, moving him aside. She gasped when her hand touched his bare chest but she didn't stop. She dropped her bag at the door and addressed the Scoobies. 

"Willow, Tara," Buffy said to the Wiccas that were still huddled in the recliner, "can you stay here with Dawn and Faith? Me and Spike are about to kick around for this locket and patrol a bit afterwards." Both women nodded their ascent. "Xander," she said to the man studying his nails on the couch. "I guess it's your job to fill Anya in on everything. Also, could you do some preliminary research? Pull some books from the shelves of the Magic Box. Look for references of a Sigma Order or Gabriel. And anything dealing with time travel and such," he nodded his acquiescence. "And any prophecies dealing with a slayer and vampire having a child," she added hastily.

"Gee, Buff, I'm gonna need a U-Haul for all this."

"Xander, please. And don't worry about bringing them by. You can set them in the training room and I'll swing by early in the morning. I can look over them until everyone else is done for the day." 

"Sure thing, Buffy," Xander said, giving her a warm smile before shooting a look of contempt towards the silent vampire. 

Buffy turned on her heels and picked up the bag. "Let's go," she said simply to Spike. And the vampire and his slayer walked out into the damp night. 

The deep gray of the storm clouds hung overhead, lazily floating through the air. The rain had stopped over an hour ago though a quick glance to the west hinted at an even stronger deluge of rain, wind and lightning. The nine figures that traversed the empty sidewalks of suburban Sunnydale did not care for what weather was ahead. They had only one thing in mind. 

Kill the slayer's friends and bring her in unharmed.

Well, that had been actually two objectives but no one was really counting. 

Despite the nagging pain in his ribs and shoulder, Primus fearlessly led the diverse group of demons to Revello Drive. The Slayer's humble abode. 

It wasn't that some demons actually knew where the slayer lived. But knowing and going there were two different things. Though most demons relished on causing torment to the families of their enemies, the slayer was a whole 'nother animal. Not many had survived to tell the tale. Well, none actually. But it wasn't just her they feared. She wasn't alone in her battle against the forces of darkness. No. 

Of all people, rather demons, Spike, the slayer of slayers, fought loyally at her side. And though she would only kill those that bothered her and her family, Spike wasn't as generous. 

As they rounded onto the slayer's street, Primus shot a warning hand up toward the demons. They stopped and blended into the cover of darkness and foliage. There she was, dressed in black, followed by the platinum blond vampire. Primus' face sneered with hate at the sight of him. He was a traitor to his kind, consorting with the slayer. Killing vampires and demons alike to appease _her. _Primus would have called him soft were it not for the things-the horrible things, even by demon standards-he had done to certain demons whose tongues had been loosened by alcohol or virgin blood. Even the demon within Primus shuddered at the images he had seen several months ago. Spike had taken out Guiness and his gang single-handedly. There were comprised of six well-trained vamps. But he hadn't dusted Guiness. No, what he had done to the fifty-year-old vamp was beyond cruel and Primus began having second thoughts. _What if he did that to me? _He asked himself. _But you know that Seth guy could do worse. _

Could he?

Primus snapped out of his thoughts as the slayer and her pet vampire disappeared around the other corner. He turned to his charges, a vicious smile crossing his face. 

"Well, fellas, looks like the slayer is gone for the night. You three," he said, addressing the trio of Flanzen'da demons. They were about six feet and covered with greenish-gray scales. Razor sharp bones protruded from their head, elbows, shoulders and knees. They were perfect for battle and that was not even considering their dagger-like teeth and razor talons. They were extremely difficult to find, as they maintained a decent existence in desert climates. It just so happened that this trio of androgynous demons had been passing through town at the right time. "Aside from shadow man over here," Primus continued, "you are the only lot that can get into the house without the red carpet being rolled out for you. Whoever's in the house…" he smiled evilly, "kill 'em. The rest of us will take care of the slayer and her little boy toy." The demons all smiled at one another before splitting up. Primus, along with four rather large vamps and the shadow demon crept through the dark behind Buffy and Spike while the three Flanzen'da demons made their way stealthily to 1630 Revello Drive. 

The walk to the bluff where Spike had found Faith was on the outskirts of town. It had taken them a little under an hour to get there by foot. What little words were spoken were grunts of complaint by Buffy why they couldn't have driven. Though it wasn't raining, it was cold and wet, two things that didn't sit well with the residential slayer. Every time she uttered her disdain, Spike replied off-handedly that "Long walks build character."

Spike was astonished at his behavior on the walk. He never would have guessed that he could be completely alone with Buffy without spewing some sort of sexual innuendo or decidedly hurtful barb. But it was more along the lines of his mind's preoccupation with certain events than of his own volition. Finding out the woman you were in love with having a daughter by what was, for all intents and purposes, your father sometimes had a disquieting effect on you. So he walked, hands tucked deep into his pockets, eyes downcast. _Buffy and Angel,_ he thought. How would it happen? When? More importantly, why? Hadn't he always been there for her? Despite her tantrums and harsh fists? And harsher words? What had Angel done? He had left her high and dry. That's devotion for you. _The selfish git. Can't have all of her so you leave…_

But isn't that what has crossed your mind? A voice said. 

_That was different, _the cocky Spike answered.

_How?_

All I want is her heart. Angel had that. 

So if you could have her heart but couldn't become one with her, you could deal? The voice asked sardonically. 

Spike wanted to say that he could deal. But if he did, he would be no better than what he accused her off. Denial. If he had done one thing wrong, it would have been to give himself to her-all of him. If only he would have thought…no, that wouldn't have helped. Hadn't he told her and Peaches the very same things. 

_Blood isn't brains people. It's blood screamin' inside of you to work its will. _

And his blood did scream. For her and her alone. 

Buffy cast a glance toward her silent partner. Yes, Spike was her partner. Had been for quite some time. She could trust him to be there with her in a fight and the lives of her friends. Hell, she even trusted him with her life. Yet she refused to let him into her heart. She snorted to herself. The same thoughts continued to assault her day in and day out. Why couldn't she get over him? And why wasn't that the scariest thing?

The scariest thing was that she didn't want to get over him. 

A chill ran up her back as she felt his cool fingers touch her hand. 

"We're here, luv," he said. She surveyed the area. They were on the slant of a semi-paved road that led to the bluff. From there was a good view of the city. It was quite similar to the one Angel would have used to greet the sun once long ago. 

Angel. Now that was another thing entirely. But she refused to touch that subject. If what Faith said was true…

She shoved the thoughts to the side. She wanted, needed, to concentrate on the task at hand. 

"Found the bit right about here," Spike said, his eyes scanning the foliage along the side of the road. "Shouldn't be too hard to find," he told her. 

"Of course not," she said sarcastically, "little silver piece of jewelry, lots of bushes, not much light. Should be a piece of cake." Spike looked and she absently brushed a wisp of hair from her face. 

_God, she's beautiful_ he thought. Almost immediately, he felt the desire welling up inside of him. He whipped his head back to the task at hand, ignoring the little voice whispering for him to take her on the wet earth. 

_Concentrate, ole boy, _he encouraged himself, tearing his gaze from her. Maybe it was the way the tank top accentuated her pert breasts or how her slim hips were visible through the black jeans, but all he could see was how she had look not moments before, arms crossed with that look of defiance on her face. 

"It'd be right kind of you if you could help a bloke out," he told her sarcastically. She huffed dramatically before she begrudgingly started searching the brush a few feet away from Spike with a small flashlight. They searched for several minutes before he heard Buffy's ecstatic whoop. 

"I am just way cool," she said, holding up an object that reflected the weak pulse of her flashlight. Despite his surly mood, Spike couldn't help but grin at the young woman in front of him. She dangled the locket in one hand, a look of contentment etched on her face. 

"Well, aren't we all chipper at the bit 'o jewelry," he said with his sarcastic-ness firmly in place. She cocked her head to one side and frowned. Her bottom lip stuck out and Spike couldn't hold the smile down anymore. 

"What?" She asked. "What's so funny?" Her hand dropped to her side and she put the item into her pocket. 

"Come now, pet. I mean, it's one thing to give a bloke the attitude and all. But that…" he pointed to her, "is not fair."

She rolled her eyes indignantly, hands poised on her hips. That even made him laugh harder. 

"I'm glad you are having a fun time laughing it up considering there isn't too much funniness going on over here." She stamped over to her bag and picked it up in a huff. She walked back toward town. 

"Buffy wait," Spike said, jogging after her. His calls were ignored. Though he was sure that it was the fact his words were thrown in between chuckles. 

"I was just joshin with you, pet." He finally caught up with her and was not prepared for what she did next. 

In one fluid motion, Buffy tossed the duffel bag into a cropping of trees and Spike unceremoniously followed. He hit the ground with a thud, jarring his insides. 

"Bloody hell, woman," he screamed, but she was upon him. Buffy jumped onto his abdomen and Spike expelled unnecessary air. She grabbed him by the wrists before he could react and pinned his arms to the ground. Spike could only stare up at her shadowed form, perplexed, before her mouth crashed down onto his. 

Spike knew that if he could see himself now, his eyes were hanging in the sockets by the barest of threads. He was frozen, much like the time she had kissed him in the abandoned building. He was utterly and completely flabbergasted. But it only took a moment for him to shake off the haze and return her kiss with his own fervor. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue out to meet her increasingly impatient probe. He never understood how through such hard kisses he could still feel the velvety softness of her lips. With each kiss her desire grew and Spike felt her inching her hips down, closer toward his…

"Buffy," he moaned into her mouth as she ground her hips into his stiffening member. She returned his moan with an unintelligible whimper as she navigated her lower extremities in a circular motion against him. The heat between her thighs was like a blast furnace, even through the barriers. The warmth of her breath as she gasped into his mouth, not to mention her very vanilla-y fragrance, only added to Spike's arousal. He couldn't take this. He needed to touch her, to shed off their constraints, to feel her against him. 

He moved to get up but she was having none of that. Her grip tightened just enough to be uncomfortable and Spike grunted with satisfaction. _She wants to be in control, _he thought. _Well, luv, I'm all yours. _He relaxed his hands that only led her to re-enforcing her grip. Her heart was hammering in her chest and Spike could not help but smirk internally at his effect on the slayer. _His _slayer. 

Her frantic kisses waned, replaced by softer, more passionate kisses. The urgency was still there, however, as if she would explode if he weren't inside of her. It had been so long since the last time. She had spent the last two weeks doing everything she could to distract herself from the hole she felt when she wasn't with him. But everything she had done was only a reminder of him. The more she denied herself the harder it became. Of course, stubborn as she was, she was not about to admit that to him. _Too much at stake _she thought and was promptly jolted by the upward thrust of Spike's hips. She rode the electric shock as best she could, crying out into Spike's receptive lips. But she lost her grip on his wrists enough for him to wriggle free and flip her over. He leaned over her, very ready between her legs. Her body tingled with the anticipation of their lips touching again. But it never came. She craned her neck up, lips apart, her hands beckoning him closer. Though she couldn't see him well, she could feel the weighed gaze of his eyes on her, transmitting all that he felt for her through his blue orbs. 

"Buffy," he said breathlessly. She shivered as her name fell from his lips. _At least when he calls me Slayer, I don't have to worry about that, _she mused. She placed one hand on his back while the other she ran through his platinum locks. She drew him closer. She needed to feel his cool lips against hers. And he seemed more than willing to oblige. 

But before they connected with the familiar electricity, he stopped. Cocking his head to one side, he looked to his left and before Buffy knew what was going on, Spike had hoisted her to her feet. 

"What?" she had a chance to say before all hell broke loose. 

***Sorry for the lag in updates. I've been busy. But not to worry. This is the first of two chapters I'll post tonite and then two more sometime on Sunday. Well, that does depend on how many reviews I get. I may make you wait….hehe*** 


	13. Choices

***an important conversation between Dawn and Faith…***

CHAPTER 13 

Dawn had never felt pain this deep before. Not when her mother had died nor when she came across the limp body of her older sister strewn over the rubble last spring. In both cases, it was as if she had been too preoccupied to grieve properly. The tears that had fallen when Buffy had come to her school that day had been her hardest cry. Denial had set in quickly followed by determination to raise Joyce Summers from her wooden prison. And when the plan had fallen through, Buffy was there to share in her grief. 

It was the same when Buffy had died. She had always felt guilty that she didn't grieve enough but the whole Glory ordeal not to mention her mother dying only a few months earlier had drained the teenager in every possible way. And then there was Spike. His presence lightened the burden from her shoulders. Though all the Scoobies had been gravely wounded by Buffy's death, none seemed to have taken it harder than he had. No matter what she, Willow or Tara said to him, he had the notion that it was his fault engraved into his stubborn skull. 

Despite her pain, Dawn almost laughed at his refusal to see the truth of the matter. He had done all he could and that was all Buffy had asked him. It was never good enough for him. Just like their explanations at why she was not to blame for her mother's death. 

At the thought of her mother, Dawn buried her tear-streaked face further into her pillow. Her face was molded into its center and a primordial scream of pain and frustration poured into the cotton fabric from her aching throat.

"Dawn," a newly familiar voice said from behind her. She cut her scream though the tears continued to fall. 

"Dawn," Faith's voice said again, closer. Dawn could feel the young woman's weighted gaze on her. 

"Go away," she managed through muffled cries. But Faith stood her ground. She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, giving the emotional teen room to breathe. Speaking of which…

"You know, if you keep your face stuffed in the pillow like that, it's gonna end up sticking to your face." A tentative smile broke out on the woman's face when Dawn sullenly turned her head to the side. 

"Well, maybe if I died, you all wouldn't have to worry about me anymore," the total disregard for self caught Faith off guard. She quickly recovered and maneuvered into a position that gave her face to face contact with her future aunt. Dawn moved to turn away but Faith captured the girl's moistened face in her small hands. 

"Look at me, Dawn," she demanded. The forcefulness of the tiny woman's voice sent chills through Dawn and she stiffened. Her wide eyes captured any residual tears. They managed to fall through when she was forced to blink. The way Faith looked at her, with that grim determination and love reminded her that this woman was indeed a Summers. 

"Listen to me carefully." Faith's dropped her hands but assisted Dawn in sitting up. Dawn pulled her knees to her chin, arms wrapped tightly around them. Faith sat in front of her, one leg folded underneath her while the other dangled off the side of the bed. She smiled tiredly at Dawn.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat things for you, or treat you like a kid," Dawn almost smiled at that. "In the future…things aren't too good. Who am I kidding? They suck, big time." Dawn smirked at Faith's candor. If she was one thing, it was brutally honest. Just like someone's favorite vampire…

"What happened to Spike?" Dawn whispered. At the thought of Faith's similarities to the vampire and from what she had told them earlier, the teen had cast her angst aside for the moment. 

This time, it was Faith's turn to look down. Her shoulders visibly slumped and she exhaled raggedly. The bed vibrated lightly as her unrestricted leg tapped rhythmically against the side of the mattress. She remained that way for several minutes before finally looking up at Dawn with blurry eyes. 

"He…died," she choked out. The words were no less painful now than they ever were. She had always heard that pain was something you learned to deal with. Even the jagged wound left by the death of a loved one was supposed to close over time. _Bullshit!_ She cursed inwardly. _The pain never goes away. _

"What happened?" Dawn asked, raising her head a little. "And why were you so against Buffy earlier? I mean if she's your mom…"

"She doesn't deserve to be called my mom," Faith said without conviction. After what Buffy had done to Spike, Faith deemed herself alone in the world. She knew her mother had been captured that same day but she didn't care. Part of her reveled in the fact that her mother was in the hands of Gabriel. But that revelry soon transformed and dragged her into an abyss of guilt and shame. 

_"You are not my mother," Faith said softly though the venom she spat with each word echoed into Buffy's ears. In one sweeping motion she had killed him. Her friend. Her lover. Her everything. The grief she felt was beyond comprehension. It was an emptiness that had threatened to consume her all those years ago, after being ripped from her eternal paradise. But somehow, this seemed worse. Maybe it was because she had found the proverbial heaven on earth with her family. Even though the last five years had been rough, they had always been there for one another. The three musketeers. _

Tears enveloped her vision as she stared longingly at what remained of her Spike. Her William. He had given her the most impossible of gifts and her thanks had been to erase all traces of him from the earth with a simple piece of wood. She reached a trembling hand down; her fingers begrudgingly wrapped around the smooth surface of the oak sliver and lifted it from its copulation with the ashes. It would all be over soon enough. 

Buffy raised the stake into both hands and presented it to the wrathful figure in front of her. 

"Take it," she said, her voice devoid of any emotion. She knew Faith would be left alone in this cold, dark world, but she would be fine. And it wasn't as if there was a choice in the matter. 

She ventured a look into the greenish-blue orbs of her only child and gasped at the sneer of revulsion that took in her broken form. 

"You want me to what? Kill you?" Faith snorted her derision. She finally rose from her knees and stalked off. 

"Faith," Buffy said in desperation."Take it. You know what has to be done."

Faith whirled around with inhuman speed and ripped the wooden death from her mother's grip. She cocked her arm to strike. Buffy closed her eyes, puffing her chest out to greet the blow she hoped would reunite her with her now dead lover. She felt Faith's arm surge forward. Death was only half a heart beat away…

Wave after wave of guilt washed over Faith from the memory. She had been so close to ending it, knowing she had to do it. Not to relieve her mother's pain, but for the world. 

_Buffy felt the biting sting of wood as its tip pricked her flesh. But there was no more. She opened her eyes as the wood crackled loudly against the paved road. _

"What are you doing?" she asked Faith. The girl's shoulder length locks hid her from Buffy's prying eyes. Buffy. Or bitch. It didn't matter what she called her as long as it was never mother again. 

"What are you doing?" Buffy demanded frantically, her hands gripping Faith's slumped shoulders. "You have to do this Faith. You know it. It's the only way." Faith refused to meet her mother's gaze because she knew Buffy's eyes held the truth. The truth that the young girl could not deal with. She couldn't be alone. As long as Buffy was alive, Faith would never be alone. The thinking was convoluted, she knew, but denial was a powerful hallucinogen. 

"I can't," Faith said weakly. "I won't!" She yelled, slapping Buffy's arms away. Her anger and hate had returned and she peered unflinchingly into the slayer's green embers. 

Buffy wilted at the sight but didn't back down. "You know what the books said. We told you. You just don't want to hear it. This is the only way to defeat him, Faith. We didn't…we don't have any other choice." 

Faith didn't even feel her arm raise or remember her fist connect with Buffy's face, knocking the slayer to the ground. She looked up at her daughter with pleading eyes, staving off the call of unconsciousness as long as she could. As she heard her daughter's last words before succumbing to the darkness, she couldn't help but wish it had pulled her under sooner. 

"We always have a choice," the figure said, walking away. "And right now I choose to forget you. Forget my mother. As of right now, you're nothing to me…"

The bitter sting of those words made Faith's stomach lurch. How could she have been so cruel? So unforgiving? This had been the woman that had given her everything and yet she had walked away from her helpless form, never looking back, even as Gabriel's demons had shackled Buffy and taken her away. Faith wanted to wallow in her own heartache, to feel that familiar pang of loss as sure as a stake through the heart of a vampire. But she couldn't now. She had come up here for a reason. 

"He died. Your sister killed him." She saw Dawn's gasp of disbelief but continued. "She thought she was doing the right thing. It was, after all, mentioned in the prophecy."

"What?" Dawn asked through the haze of newly formed tears. Buffy killing Spike? Never. Even when they had been mortal enemies, she had never done it. And now that they were together…she would just stake him just because a prophecy said so? "Why? Why was it so important to stake him?"

Faith laughed humorlessly. "That's what I didn't understand. Well, actually, I had only found out what they had meant when I saw my…when I saw Spike turn to dust. They had been telling me for several days that something was going to happen and they might leave and never come back. Even though I was nineteen, they still shielded me from the reality of what it all meant." Dawn heard the resentment in her tone and could not help but to understand. Buffy was like that with her now, trying to protect her from all the baddies when in reality it only hurt her in the end. 

"They told me something was going to happen. That Buffy had to do something and they made me promise that no matter what it was, I would follow through and return the 'favor'," the last word dribbled out in contempt. "Some favor. 'Hey kid. Why don't you watch your mom kill your father, then turn around, and do the same to her? It'll be a blast. A great family bonding exercise'." She waved her hand in disgust. 

__

"But couldn't they have…I mean, there had to have been another way," Dawn said with pleading eyes. Faith smiled warmly. _Maybe there's still hope for you, Dawnie. _

"That's what I said." The warmth disappeared from her eyes and was replaced by a grim determination. "There is _always _a choice, Dawn." The teen picked up the hint right away. 

"But…if it's in something's nature to be one way, then does it really have a choice? I mean, if something is naturally evil, then can it ever be good?"

Faith smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. It was a condescending smile, as if she knew something that Dawn didn't. It didn't take long for Dawn to feel the anger bubbling within her. 

"What?" she spat out, full teenage sullenness in effect. Faith cocked her head to the side, taking in this beautiful young girl in front of her. Her lip poked out, pouting, and Faith's smile was now genuine. If it was one thing Summers' women did well, it was pout. Of course that went hand in hand with their innate stubbornness, but that was beside the point. 

"Do you think Spike is evil?" She asked Dawn, her tone neutral. The teen looked at her thoughtfully before bursting into a cacophony of giggles. 

"Spike? Evil?" She asked incredulously, then rolled her eyes. "Spike and evil go together like me being a normal fifteen year old teen and not an ancient green gob of cosmic energy. So, no, I don't think Spike is evil."

"Has he ever told you about the things he has done?"

"Yeah…I mean…." And Dawn remembered….

_"And the lady invited you in?"_

"Well, I had hubby by the throat, didn't I? Promised her he'd live if she did the invite."

"And did you…let him live?" She was getting nervous. 

Spike looked at her hard and Dawn's heart skipped a beat. "What do you think?" he asked her menacingly. 

Faith couldn't help but laugh at the girl's shocked face. She was obviously recalling one of Spike's vampiric tales. Dawn glared at laughing figure. 

"What's so funny?" Dawn asked, crossing her arms across her chest. That only made the petite woman laugh harder, until she held her sides in and massaged her cramping muscles. 

"Sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. Dawn rolled her eyes. "It's just that…that face you just made."

"What about it?" 

"That's the same face I made when he used to tell me his stories." She regarded Dawn momentarily. "That's what you were thinking of, wasn't it?" The teen dropped her eyes to the bed, her finger twirling in her dark hair. Faith viewed this girl. This little girl that lost her mother, was on the run from a hell-god and then lost her sister in a matter of months. The grief must have been overbearing. And now she admitted that she still blamed herself for what had happened. It reminded her so much of Spike. Even four decades after the events of Buffy's tragic dive off the tower, he still would not totally forgive himself. Faith saw it whenever Buffy joked about dying. He would flinch and that pain of loss, of failure, would creep across his pale features. Afterwards, he usually meandered off by himself, and Faith had, on occasion, saw him crying silently. She had never told Buffy nor confronted him. She just knew. And that was when it hit her. What happened to him was not so much Buffy's fault as it was a necessity's. Spike would have never left her, never left _them, _if it wasn't the only way. At least at the time. Faith looked up at Dawn, remembering why she had followed her up here. 

"Dawn," she said, the seriousness in her voice palpable. It was also coated with compassion. "I'm know you are not a kid, and I'm not going to treat you like one. I'm not going to say we live in a rosy future full of kittens and lazy Sundays spent lounging around the house as a family." It had been like that for a few years, Faith remembered, but ended all too quickly. She saw the lengths Buffy had gone to give her a halfway normal existence, under the circumstances of having two witches and an ancient key as an aunt and a vampire and vampire slayer as parents, that was. She touched her hand to Dawn's warm cheeks and sighed. How much had these women, these Summers women been through? When would it end? She doubted it ever would. 

"Things happened, with you, that changed you in a way no one had realized. I don't know what it was and I don't know when. All I know is that it's soon." She saw the fear in Dawn's eyes and it wrenched her insides not to be able to take it away. But she had to continue. 

"And when that happens, you probably won't even feel it. But this thing, whatever it is, will gestate and fester within you for years until it turns you into something…someone that's a far cry from what you are now. The things you will do…" she broke eye contact. The hurt and pain she was causing this young girl was pulling Faith under a tide of heartache. But she had a purpose. 

"Dawn," she said, looking up with a renewed determination, "I just want you to know this. That through it all, you do come through in the end."

"Great. So how many people die before I finally get the guts to face whatever this is?" The hurt teen asked sarcastically. 

"It doesn't matter now. Because we are going to change that."

"How? Are you going to stop this thing when it comes for me?"

"No. For some reason, at least I think, that part is an important part to the restoration of this world. I know with me being here, things have already changed. But despite that, the major events will not be hindered by my actions."

"Then why are you telling me this?" the teen asked, confused. 

"Did anyone ever tell you how impatient you can be? Anyway, just because I can't change things doesn't mean you can't."

"I don't understand."

"Yes you do, Dawn. Like I said, what happens to you cannot be changed, but what you _do _after that can be. Remember what I said earlier, downstairs, about choice? I meant it. No matter how hopeless a situation seems to be, no matter your resignation that it's over, you always have a choice. Remember that. Understand that." Again silence fell between the two before Faith continued. 

"I know you don't like to think of him this way, but before he fell in love with your sister, Spike was evil. Just because he never tried to harm you or your mother back then didn't change that. But over time, his love for her, for you, and even the Scoobies, changed him fundamentally. He did what no other vampire had done. Without the benefit of a soul, Spike found his moral compass. He found his redemption in the love of you and Buffy. He defeated the demon within for you girls. And surprisingly enough, the demon acquiesced to William the man's domination. Dawn, the hardest thing for people to do is change who it is in their nature to become. But he did." Faith studied her hands and sighed. 

"When the time comes Dawn, years from now, remember; no matter how great the pull of this thing within you, you will always be a good and loving person. Don't let it change you. You are responsible for your actions, not anyone else. And no matter how hard, how hopeless you feel, you always have a choice." She tapped Dawn on the knee and moved to get up. 

"Where are you going?" she asked. Faith swirled around, jubilantly. She had finally said it, and she truly believed her words would make a difference. That's all she had wanted to do, make that difference. 

"Oh, I don't know. Go outside, stretch my muscles, get some fresh air, kick a little demon ass. And not in that order," she smiled and almost skipped out the room. 

Dawn stared at where her future niece had been and shook her head. She had a choice in things. She could change the way things ended up for her. Dawn felt good about that. And though Faith had not implicitly referred to it, some of the guilt Dawn felt for what happened to others trying to protect her had dissipated. They held no blame to her, they only did what came naturally and that was to protect someone they loved. Dawn leaned back against her pillow, and looked up at her star-covered ceiling. The choices people made were so often based on their desire to love or be loved. Dawn couldn't fault herself for the Scoobies, Spike or Buffy for putting themselves in harm's way to keep her safe. How could she, when she'd do the same thing? So the world had turned into a rotten hellhole, no big. For an instant she understood, truly. If her choices were correct maybe - just maybe - she could make the world a better place. 

***I hope I was able to give you a little more insight into Faith's character. Tell me what you think of her. 

***And for those eager for the next chapter titled Stakes and Stones

****

His jaundice eyes smiled at the blond vampire before he reared back and sent the stake into Spike's chest. 

"Buffy!" he screamed before darkness claimed him and he knew no more.

So, tell me how bad you wanna know what happens next….Review please. Haha.


	14. Stakes & Stones

***Sorry about the wait. This is not what you would call a chapter filled with hugs and puppies. But it's the spring board for the climax (several chapters from now though)

***Contains what may be a possibly unsettling scene for some people. Fair warning. 

CHAPTER 14 

Under normal circumstances, the battle would have been over in minutes. Despite the six-to-two advantage, the demons wouldn't have stood a chance against a slayer and a master vampire, even with the element of surprise on their side. As it was, their advantage was two-fold; first, with it being so dark with the trees blocking out any attempts at light from the town to reach the figures, Buffy had a difficult time discerning the position of her attackers. The second advantage paralleled the first; the shadow demon, was almost invisible in the darkness, and even with his heightened night vision, Spike could barely make the creature out. 

"Bloody hell," the blond vampire cursed after his jaw shifted from a particularly solid blow from the leader of the group. He and Buffy had already staked two vamps, but that still left three and then the shadow demon was four. Two vamps were teaming up against his slayer though Spike dared not take another peak, as his hands were already full. 

"How you doing, slayer?" he asked parrying a blow from the giant only to be kicked from behind by the shadow demon. 

"Not too bad, considering I can barely see them," she shouted. A hand shot out from the darkness, connecting with her abdomen. Buffy fell to one knee and the vampire behind her flew gracelessly over her head. She heard it thump against the ground and curse. She couldn't help but laugh. 

"You think this is funny, slayer?" the ambulatory vampire asked.

"Well…yeah. I never thought I'd be thanking a vampire for, you know, doubling me over in pain." She saw the faint glint of metal soar through the air and she ducked just in time. The vampire's booted foot crashed loudly against a tree. Buffy used the opportunity to grab hold of his leg. She placed it on her shoulder and with all her strength, pushed down on his knee with both hands. A sickening crack reverberated throughout the trees and the vampire fell helplessly clutching his shattered knee. 

"You know when they say 'break a leg'," she told it, straddling its chest, "that's only hyperbole," and then she plunged the stake into its heart, ushering the creature into oblivion. The other vampire had recovered by then and again implemented a its kamikaze dive that connected. Buffy was thrown back and the stake clattered to the ground. 

The familiar hiss of a dusted vampire reached Spike just as he secured his grip on the pouncing shadow demon. He rammed it, chest first into a tree, satisfied when its hiss of air came out more like a gurgle. 

"Serves you right, you ponce. Can't fight fair, can you." He slammed it against the tree again and its body went limp in his hands. He knew it wasn't dead so he went for the kill. 

"Balls," he shouted as the large vampire's fist connected with the small of his back. Spike lost his grip and the demon fell to the ground, scurrying away into the darkness. The vamp rained blows down on a stunned Spike's head and shoulders. 

"Say goodnight, blondie," the vamp quipped, his large fist hurdling towards Spike exposed skull. At the last minute, Spike moved his head and the vampire's hand smashed against the solid wood, sending splinters flying. Clutching his broken hand, the vamp backed away before Spike grabbed him roughly by the lapels. 

"No," said the master vampire, plucking a splinter from the tree, "you say goodnight." He lunged forward with the stake towards the vampire's exposed chest but was again tackled from behind. The vampire that had wrestled Buffy to the ground came to its leader's rescue. The powerful vampire snaked its arms around Spike's shoulders, locking him in a full nelson. Before he could fight to break the hold, a head smashed into his face, littering his vision with stars. The head butt was followed by a bone-jarring punch and then a kick to the chest that knocked both Spike and the vamp holding him hard into the tree. Spike struggled mightily but the previous blows had stunned him significantly. Spike saw the big vamp pick up the make shift stake. His jaundice eyes smiled at the blond vampire before he reared back and sent the stake into Spike's chest. 

"Buffy!" he screamed before darkness claimed him and he knew no more. 

Faith stepped out to the back porch and inhaled deeply. The distinct scent of rain still lingered though the showers had long since ceased. She stretched her arms to the sky as if grasping for the stars that remained hidden behind the clouds. It felt good to be outside again. The hair along her skin bristled as the cool wind caressed her bare flesh. She looked down at the black Nikes she borrowed from Buffy's closest. She would have rather slush through the wet grass bare-footed but bare feet didn't bode too well in a fight. 

"I know you're out there," she said. She waited with her arms crossed, toe tapping against the porch steps. A few moments passed before three hideous demons emerged from the shadows. 

"Ahhh, Flanzen'da demons," Faith said thoughtfully, hopping off the steps onto the level ground. "Can't say I've seen many of you guys. But Maria did teach me about you." She regarded her three opponents as they circled her, malice their only intentions. 

"Hmm, let's see what I remember. Big, strong, razor sharp bone protrusions," The first one charged Faith, sweeping at her with its right arm. She grabbed it by the wrist and yanked with all her might, rending the arm from the socket. The beast howled inhumanly, a thick, black substance oozed from the wound. She slammed the bone part of its arm through its face and it emerged from the back of its head. One down. 

She brushed a lock of hair out of her face and smirked. "Boy did you guys get a raw deal. Not only are you androgynous gits, but having weak joints must be a bitch. Guess you guys don't fancy too many arm wrestling contests. " The other two demons let loose a high pitched squeal which caught Faith off guard. She stumbled backwards against the steps, temporarily discombobulated. The two demons moved in for the kill with a preternatural swiftness. 

The demons were a stride away from the slayer when they were rammed with an unseen force, knocking them back ten feet. Faith looked at the stunned demons, perplexed. She shook the cobwebs from her head and glanced back. Sure enough, all three Scoobies (and Dawn) stood there. Willow was holding Tara's hand as the latter had just finished uttering words Faith was not quite familiar with. 

"Thanks guys," she saluted and dashed over to the reeling demons, "I'll take it from here." Faith reached the demons in several hurried strides. She had almost forgotten their siren-like ability to disorient their prey. And she had almost paid for it. _Time to end this freak show, _she said to herself. 

She reached the first demon and flipped over its head. She grabbed the horns perched atop its head and despite that they cut into her hands, she held tight. As she came out of her flip, she twisted her body in a half circle, the Flanzen'da demon's head wrenching with her twist. But she wasn't finished. Instead of landing on her feet, she piked her lower body and sent her feet crashing into the demon's back, shattering its already twisted spine. It didn't even get a chance to scream before it fell to the ground, dead. 

"That's two," she said. 

"Faith!" Dawn yelled and the slayer turned to the girl's voice. Though she didn't see the last demon's swipe at her head, she felt it a mile away. Ducking casually, Faith pirouetted in the direction of the blow and lashed her right leg out. It caught the Flanzen'da in the ankle, knocking it to the ground. She was immediately on top of it, her slashed hands pummeling the demon's face. One. Two. Three. She lost count of the punches. Her knuckles were raw and bloody. It wasn't until she felt a warm hand against her arm that she stopped. 

"Faith," Dawn said, her eyes displayed both horror and concern. Faith looked from Dawn to the demon. It was dead, all right. She rose to her feet as if in a stupor and looked out into the night. What happened to her? Why did she feel the rise of panic in her chest so suddenly? 

"Are you ok?" Dawn asked, the slight tinge of horror in her face transformed to complete concern. 

"Yeah, Dawnie," Faith replied, absently. Something was wrong. "Dawn," she said, grabbing the teen forcefully by her shoulders, her blood staining Dawn's green shirt. "Get in the house now. Don't ask questions, just go," she pushed Dawn in the direction of the house and immediately regretted her decision. 

"Hey, my little slayer?" said the all too familiar voice of the figure that stood between them and the door. Faith's stomach lurched like it never had before. Her skin broke out into a cold sweat and she backed up, her fear in total control. 

"No," she said meekly. The figure only smiled. Faith was so preoccupied with the figure that she didn't even notice Dawn's scream. 

"Willow! Tara!" The girl called to the still forms on the porch. Xander was no where in sight. Ignoring the figure in front of her, Dawn ran towards her friends, only to be stopped by a powerful hand around her neck. 

"Urgk," she gasped as she was lifted off the ground. Her feet dangled helplessly in the air and she struggled to break free. But his grip was too strong and Dawn felt herself slipping into the realms of unconsciousness. 

"Cute little thing, isn't she?" Seth asked the huddled slayer as he dropped Dawn's limp body to the ground. He sauntered over to the terrified slayer and knelt down beside her. He slid his cool hand up and down her arm, reveling in the wash of fear that cascaded off of her. Tears streamed down her cheeks and Seth moved to where his face was only an inch away. He snaked his tongue out, capturing a random tear on it. 

"Good," he said. "Better than I remember, actually." Faith felt his leer over her body before his hand slid between her thighs. She jumped in disgust at the violation but fear held her in abeyance. He stroked her intimate parts, his eyes full of desire. "And other things, I'd really like to see, as well." Faith whimpered, and tears fell even faster from her terrified eyes. 

"I love it when you're scared," he whispered in her ear. "Fear is such a powerful aphrodisiac." He pushed his other hand underneath her shirt and squeezed her breast roughly. 

"Please, no," she cried which only made him more aroused. He felt his erection against his pants and wanted to take her right now. But he had a job to do. 

"As much as I'd love to, sweetie," he said, finally standing, "but I have some place to be." He walked over to Dawn's unconscious form and hoisted her over his shoulder. He walked away and before leaving, turned to the distraught slayer. 

"Oh, by the way, if you and your friends wanna find me, I'll be at this place called the Bronze. It's a stupid nightclub. But if the slayer wants to see her sister alive, tell her to be there, tomorrow night at midnight." He looked at his watch. "So, you have about twenty-eight hours to get there. Oh, and make no mistake, it is a trap. Oh, and I see you don't have your locket on you. Make sure you bring it as well. I wouldn't want to be stranded in this dump too long." He laughed mirthlessly and disappeared into the shadows. 

Faith hugged herself tightly, her body crawling with reminders of her past defilement at the hands of Seth. Seeing him had only reminded her of what she was. A failure. She had failed Spike and then her mother. And now, Dawn. She tried to stand but fell back to the ground. She laid on the wet ground in a fetal position wrapped her arms tightly around her jittery body. She wanted, had to, do something. But she couldn't. She'd wait for Buffy and Spike and then deal. But regardless of how she felt, Seth was right; they had no choices left. 

She laughed hysterically before bursting into sobs. Maybe she was wrong what she had told Dawn earlier. Maybe you didn't always have a choice. Maybe some things couldn't be helped. Those thoughts only further ensconced her in grief and soon the only sound heard through the cloudy night were the painful cries of a lost, little girl. 

***Chapter 15 will be up in a few days. And it's most definitely NC-17. 

***I'd love your thoughts on this chapter. 


	15. Razing the Walls

CHAPTER 15

Buffy swore as she felt her throbbing head. There was a nasty gash on the side of her head where she had been pummeled by the vampire. _Damn. Why didn't I get the whole night vision deal as part of the slayer package? _She pouted. She moved to get up when she heard the struggling to her left. _Oh my God, Spike! _She screamed in her head before hearing him yell her name. She jumped to her feet and saw the shadow of an arm striking forward. It had something in its hand…

A stake. 

"Spike!" the scream tore from her throat before her legs instinctively carried her forward. She knew she was going to be too late. The little light that shone through the forest opening shone on two silhouettes, both too large to be Spike. The vampires stared at her too stunned to move. She lashed out with her foot, catching the one closest to the tree in the chest. His back slammed against the trunk and he slumped to the ground, dazed. Buffy didn't hesitate in attacking the second, larger vampire. She threw a flurry of punches, all either connecting with his face or his gut. Her final shot to the body dropped him to his knees, the stake falling from his giant hand. Without a second thought, Buffy grabbed him around the neck and twisted with all her hate, anger and pain. The vampire screamed before she ripped his head from his shoulders. His body evaporated into pile of dust. 

Buffy looked over to the other vampire who was just now rising to his feet. A primal scream echoed from her throat and she kicked the vampire with all her strength in the chest, caving it in. He spasmed before falling into particles of ash. 

Buffy's fell to her knees in shock. Somewhere on her, she felt the twinge of injuries, though they were only moderate. But the injury to her heart was much more than that. She had been too late. Spike was gone. Tears fell at that realization. He was gone. She would never see him again. Never talk to him or hear his 'bloody hell' s. She'd never see his scarred eyebrow or hear his throaty laugh. Never feel his hands run up and down her body. Never hear him call her name when his passion burst forth within her. Never hear him say 'I love you' again…

Tears streamed down her face and she studied the faint outline of her hands. All those things she'd never see or hear or feel again were bad enough. Worst of all was that she'd never be able to tell him how she felt. 

"Spike," she whispered into the wind. A part of her held out the hope that he still existed. But she had seen the stake plunged into his heart. 

"Spike," she said again. "I never got to tell you…"

"Tell me what, luv," the British voice sounded to her right. She whirled around thinking the pain had made her delirious. That voice. It sounded like…

"Well, are you gonna sit there all wigged-out or are you gonna help a bloke up?" Her eyes narrowed and that's when she saw him. 

"Spike," she said in disbelief. 

"Yep. The one and only. Now that we got that out the way," he attempted to stand but fell back down. Buffy rushed over to him and bowled him over in her enthusiasm. 

"Bloody hell, woman," he winced as she fell on top of him. He moved to speak but was silenced as Buffy rained kisses all over his face, culminating with a deep, passionate kiss on the lips. Despite the pain in his chest, Spike returned Buffy's advances with his own fervor. Her hands ripped his shirt and traced up his smooth chest. The pain forgotten, Spike's hands caressed her taut back as she moaned longingly into his mouth.

She pulled away, her mind a jumble of images. Was she kissing Spike? 

"What? I saw you…die," she managed.

"Well, I'm here now, so that means I didn't die," he said in mild exasperation. The way she had kissed him. He'd never felt her lips filled with so much…what was it?

He winced slightly as her hand traced the wound to his chest. He saw her wide eyes look up at his twitch. 

"S'alright, luv. Bloody wankers. Pure amateurs."

"But I saw it…I saw them…stake you."

He shrugged. "Guess I must've shifted enough to throw his aim off." He felt around the wound. "Bloody thing still 'urts like hell." He glanced up at her and she cast her eyes to the ground. 

"Buffy?" he asked. "Are you ok? Are you hurt?"

"I thought I lost you," she confessed timidly. She managed to look up at him, her eyes displacing all the fear and pain that washed through her moments ago. Spike was stunned. She did not cower behind her shield of indifference to hide what she felt. She bared all her emotions to him in that one look. And for the first time in his un-life, William the Bloody was speechless. 

His reverence was broken as Buffy assaulted him again with the hard press of her lips against his. Her hands greedily took in his body, a few times passing over his wounded chest. But nothing mattered now except her. To feel her against his skin. There were too many barriers between them, barriers that had to be torn asunder. 

Spike shed his duster and Buffy her jacket all the while never breaking their kiss. She pulled back momentarily and gazed at the outline on the ground below her. The little light that did slither through the trees highlighted his pale skin. She hissed when his cool hands maneuvered under her top and caressed the tender flesh of her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples. Her shirt was off almost instantly. She dove in for another kiss, her breasts smashed up against his chest. Her hands probed his entire upper body as his firmly gripped her gyrating hips. She felt his cool desire and he her fevered urgency. Spike tried his best to control what was building inside of him but it was useless. With a practiced ease, he flipped Buffy onto her back. She hissed at the cool leather against her bare skin but was lost again in his touch. 

Their kisses grew more demanding and Buffy thought she could take no more when she felt Spike cool tongue dance along her taut nipples. She gasped, Spike's name slipping from her lips. There was no thinking now, only feeling. And the more she felt him, the more she needed him. Her desperation in full-force, Buffy's hand shot to Spike's waistline and fumbled with his button and zipper. He grunted as her petite fingers slid his zipper down and found access to his burgeoning erection. She pulled him closer to her face as the jeans slid down his slim hips. He broke contact with her for a moment and Buffy groaned her disapproval. Then she felt his blunt teeth nibble the soft flesh of her stomach. 

"Spike," she moaned, her arousal escalating like an uncontrollable fever. Despite the coolness of his skin, wherever he touched blazoned like it was on fire. He kissed her stomach and his hands massaged her breasts. Buffy arched her back in pleasure when his mouth found her heated core. Even through the jeans, the desired effect was achieved. Spike worked her zone as if nothing was between them and Buffy thrashed wildly, her hands tangled in his blond locks. 

"Need…you…now," she forced out. Spike smiled up at her. He could clearly make out her flushed features with his night vision. In one quick tug, Spike forced Buffy's jeans and panties down to her ankles. With a little help from her, he removed her boots followed by the final vestiges of clothing. He retook his position on top of her, his erection brushing against her mound. The inviting furnace between her thighs was in full tilt. He wanted to tease her so bad but it had been far too long. Wasting no more time, Spike thrust his hard shaft into Buffy's awaiting embrace. Both gasped in astonishment at the familiar yet strangely unique feeling of it all. 

"I love you, Buffy. God, I love you," Spike panted as he slid in and out of her warm core. With each thrust, Buffy's muscles clenched tighter around Spike's member. It only increased his arousal and Buffy screamed as his cool flesh pounded against her warmth. 

"Spike," she said and he stopped enough to hear her. He didn't know why, but it he knew he needed to listen. 

"Yeah, luv?" 

He saw her lips curl briefly into a half smile. "Shag later," she mused before her eyes turned deathly serious. She bit her lip and Spike saw the uncertainty in them. Whatever it was, she was nervous. 

Still sheathed inside of her, Spike gave Buffy an encouraging kiss, passionate yet soft. His lips trailed along her jaw line and his teeth nicked her earlobes. Finally, he made his way to her pulsating jugular and clamped down with his mouth. She made an unintelligible gurgle before the words escaped her mouth. 

Spike ceased his pursuits and lifted his face up to look her in the eyes. She couldn't have said that. Could she?

"What did you say?" he asked timidly. His body trembled as he awaited her response. He was afraid to ask, thinking it was all wishful thinking on his part. But there it was in her eyes, the sincerity of her words. And for good measure, she repeated it again. 

"Make love to me, Spike." For a second, Spike's body was frozen in place. _She said…she wants me to…_he stared at her in disbelief. He tried to speak but words failed to materialize. It was Buffy that broke his trance as she reached her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a reunion with his soft lips. It broke his lapse and he found himself in the familiar rhythm of their bodies intertwined in a mass of limbs. 

Spike couldn't help hide the rapture he felt at her words and Buffy felt the difference. Though it was almost impossible, everything felt even more intense than before. Every cell of her body _and _mind were tingling. She had never felt so alive and didn't want the feeling to stop. Not ten minutes ago, she had though he was dead. That brief moment had given her introspection towards what she really felt. She just couldn't say it. But she could show him. And for now, that seemed to be enough. 

***

The walk back to the crypt was a blur. After their bout of lovemaking, Spike and Buffy decided that an indoor environment was more suitable for round two. 

They were barely through the door when Spike plundered Buffy's mouth with his lips. She dropped the bag by the door and he kicked it closed. Buffy backpedaled as Spike's tongue advanced on hers, never releasing her arms from their grip around his neck. His hands greedily explored her body as if for the first time. He cupped her butt and she groaned into his mouth. Spike shuddered slightly at the intake of her warm breath. Buffy felt the welcoming feel of his erection against her stomach and smiled inwardly. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her momentum carried them further into the crypt until they fell over onto the bed. 

"New bed?" she whispered between pants. Spike slithered his tongue up and down her flesh and Buffy squealed in delight. She craned her neck to the side, in offering and all Spike could do was gaze at its perfection. He could see the hammering of her blood through her jugular and at once his demon begged for release. 

_She wouldn't know what hit her. _It coaxed. _All that rich slayer blood sliding across your tongue and down your throat. _Spike shivered at the demonic voice's incessant plea. It was always there, goading him to take her when she was so vulnerable to him, her defenses down. It was always a struggle, but one look at her and he was always able to repress the demon. No, he would never hurt her. 

"Never," he breathed in her mouth. Buffy disengaged from his lips long enough to study his eyes. His rich blue orbs gazed at her in a mixture of love, lust, pain, fear and hunger. The latter unnerved her and she found herself asking, "Never what?" 

He looked at her. Really looked at her and sighed. How had he gotten so lucky? Yes, he knew he was lucky and no matter how much he attempted to convince her that she loved him, he'd never convince himself that he deserved it. He knew he was a monster. But she had treated him like a man. He had never been in love with someone that made him feel so complete, so alive. 

The desire in her eyes was evident as was the fear. He cursed himself. Did she sense the waver in him? Or the badgering of his demon to be let loose? Though he was ashamed of his moment of temporary weakness, it didn't matter. 

"Never. I'd never hurt you, luv," he said, his voice full of sincerity. Buffy didn't break eye contact. She only looked at him harder a minute longer, searching. Then she broke out into a sheepish grin, a slight flush appearing in her cheeks. 

"I know," she said and rushed to his awaiting lips. 

Where their outdoor engagement was weighted with passion and slow love making, this session was raw, more primal. Clothes flew in all directions as the slayer and vampire wrestled on the mattress for supremacy. At no time did their lips break contact as they rolled around the new bed, always flipping the other way when they would come perilously close to tumbling off its edge. 

Finally, Spike conceded and allowed his love to straddle him. 

"Time for some fun," she intimated seductively. She reached between his legs and gripped his shaft tightly with her tiny hands. He groaned as she stroked it up and down, every so often brushing it against her curls or teasing his tip with a feel of her blazing entrance. It didn't take long for him to be coated with her wetness. She eyed him longingly before taking her hand between her thighs and exploring herself. It almost drove Spike over the edge. He moved to get up but was held in place by her hand against his chest. 

"Don't," she whispered. Spike obeyed as he watched her nimble fingers kneading her throbbing sex. Oh how he wanted a taste. As if reading her mind, Buffy pulled her saturated fingers away from her core and rubbed them across Spike's lips. He darted his tongue out, to taste her juices. He moaned as her distinct flavor rushed over him, her arousal clear in the fragrance. She placed her fingers at his mouth and he sucked on them until the only saturation on them was from his mouth. All but one, that was. Before he could finish the job, Buffy pulled her index finger away and twirled it around, in admiration. Then, without warning, she enveloped it with her mouth, never taking her eyes off the disbelief etched in Spike's face. She worked it in and out of her mouth and it was all he could do not to come right there. His control was hampered even further by the gyration of her hips and thrilling whimpers fell from her soft, swollen lips. 

"Buffy," Spike pled. "You'll never find a bigger fan of foreplay, luv, but if you don't want to be straddling a big pile of dust from my current temperature elevation..." He frowned when she winced at the mention of him being dust. His concern turned to fascination when her countenance took on more of a devious form. 

"Elevation," she repeated as she slid down his body. "That reminds me of something." Buffy placed soft kisses across his chest and flicked her tongue out at his nipples, careful to avoid the puncture in his chest. He begged for her to continue and he screamed her name when her teeth bit down on the tender flesh around his nipples. It was enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood. 

"You wicked girl," he uttered as she trailed her tongue down the center of his chest. The anticipation of what she was going to do next was almost unbearable. He glanced down at her as she held his stiff member in her hand and studied it intently. Her ripe lips were only inches from where he wanted them. She looked up at his awaiting eyes and smiled. 

"You like to watch me?" she asked seductively. Spike tried to speak but his vocal cords refused to work. All that came out was a husky grunt. "I'll take that as a yes then." She stroked his shaft up and down slowly, intermittently kissing the tip. It was driving him crazy and she knew it. Finally, Buffy took him into her mouth and Spike screamed her name. He looked down at this beautiful woman, the love of his un-life pleasuring him. What had he done to deserve this? 

Spike watched as Buffy slid her mouth up and down his hardened shaft, sometimes flicking her tongue out to taunt him even more. But after a few minutes, she fell into a comfortable rhythm and the vampire knew it was only a matter of seconds before he burst. 

"Buffy," he whispered and it was all it took to let her know. She quickened her pace and Spike tore into the sheets as his hands contracted involuntarily. He wanted the release so bad, but not yet. Using all his willpower, Spike ushered Buffy off his cock and pulled her up to him. He kissed her fully on the lips before flipping her to her back. He stared at her with a feral gaze. It reminded Buffy of a jungle cat the second before it pounced. He leaned in to her and kissed her softly on the lips. She urged for more but he pulled away. He laced her upper body with the softest of kisses, trailing them down to her belly button. They both knew what was on his mind and Buffy spread her legs to accommodate him. Spike only smiled. The first time he had done this to her, he had to almost pry her legs open she was so shy. Afterwards, she practically begged him to do it. Well, maybe not beg, but alert him of her desires with body language and sultry looks. 

Spike nestled his head against her left thigh, breathing in the aroma of Buffy's arousal. It was ambrosia to him, gracing him with fathomless stamina. He traced his tongue against her thighs that vibrated in anticipation. He kissed and licked her swollen lips as Buffy's hands around his head 'urged' him to get more in depth. He smiled at her insistence and dove right in. 

Buffy almost passed out at her lover's first flurry. The way he moved his tongue, applying pressure in all the right places, was mind blowing. There were even times when this was better than when he was inside her. She felt the dexterity of his tongue glide back and forth against her swollen walls. She arched her back impossibly high as Spike cupped her butt with his hands. 

Spike lapped at Buffy's core as if his life depended upon it. He loved doing this to her, pleasing her to her little heart's content. The way she moaned his name and begged him not to stop delighted him to no end. That was the case now. He continued his oral onslaught until it he felt her muscles tighten. She was close. 

"Spike," she screamed. Before she could do anything else, he was on top of her and plunged himself into her to the hilt. "Spike!" she yelled as he hit that spot deep inside of her. He slid in and out, a man with a purpose. Buffy's hips bucked to meet his, thrust for thrust. Her nails found purchase against his back and he howled as she dug them into his skin. She used her slayer strength to pull Spike down to her until their lips were locked in a familiar dance. Their tongues wrestled with one another, lapping hungrily as if the world was ending. 

"Buffy," Spike moaned into her mouth. The time was nigh for his release. Hers as well. Buffy's walls gripped Spike's shaft tightly until it was too much and they both released the weeks of pent up frustration and desire for the second time that night. 

Exhausted from their session, Spike collapsed on top of the slayer, dispersing his weight so not to completely engulf her petite form. Both panted though the vampire didn't require oxygen. Some habits died hard. 

Buffy curled her leg around the back of Spike's knee, her head rested against the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. Despite the calm that washed over her body, the butterflies in her stomach were even more active now. She felt that the after sex cuddling was even more intimate than the sex itself. Spike had draped a tentative arm across her chest, awaiting her rejection. Buffy smiled into his skin and patted his arm for reassurance. She wasn't sure how long it would last but for now there was no where she wanted to be other than here, in his arms. 

***Well, we finally got some full-fledged Spuffiness!! Hope this is enough because we may not be seeing any considering that business is about to pick up. But who knows…

***The next chapter, titled _Picking Up the Pieces, _have the remaining Scoobies dealing with an extremely shaken up Faith.

***After _Picking Up the Pieces, _comes _Conversations by Candlelight. _Do I have to tell you what that's about? 

***In _Familiar Faces,_ Dawn wakes up in the company of her captors. 

***Tell me what you think. About this chapter and the story as a whole. I like hearing your theories on where the story is headed. 


	16. Reopening Old Wounds

CHAPTER 16

In her twenty plus years of life, Willow Rosenberg had never been awakened by pain. The searing pain in her left arm coupled by the cacophony of voices screaming inside her tiny skull changed that. 

_First time for everything, _she managed to think through the haze of pain.

She whimpered meekly as she tried to force herself up. Not wishing to aggravate her left shoulder any further, she struggled to her knees with the use of only one arm. A wave of nausea ripped through the red head as she struggled to sit up. She definitely had a concussion. She placed her a tentative hand to her head and was startled when her palm came back, smeared with blood. 

"Oh, that can't be good," she whispered, studying it with an odd sort of fascination. The sight of blood had snapped her back into the reality of the situation. Something bad had happened here. One minute, her, Tara and Xander were watching Faith wipe the back yard with some nasty looking demons and the next, she felt as if her arm was seceding from the rest of her body. She glanced absently at said arm. _That can't be right,_ she thought as she studied it. Her shoulder was no longer 'shoulder-level', rather several inches lower than it should have been. Her eyes widened at the sight of it until they drifted to the body to her left.

"Tara!" she yelled, scooting over to her unconscious ex-lover. Fear gripped Willow at the sight of Tara's injuries. Her right arm splayed away from her body at an odd angle. Whatever had befallen Willow had happened to her as well. Tara's blond locks were a darkened hue, matted with blood. 

"Baby," Willow cooed, reaching a tentative hand towards the injured Wicca. She brushed Tara's head aside and had the wherewithal to feel for a pulse. It took a moment for confirmation but she had a steady pulse going and at the realization, Willow let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. 

"Tara," she resumed. She ran the back of her hand softly against the Tara's head, her eyes closed, almost willing her to wake up. A faint moan escaped Tara's swollen lips and Willow's eyes shot open, filling with tears of relief. 

"Willow?" she asked groggily. She tried to push her way up but cried out as she discovered the exquisite pain in her arm. 

"Don't try to move, sweetie," Willow warned and moved over to Tara's good side. 

"My arm," she started.

"I know, I think it's dislocated. Don't worry, you're not alone," Tara slowly turned her head to face Willow and the red head pointed to her own souvenir. "Looks like we've got a matching set," she quipped despite severe discomfort. 

Notwithstanding her own pain, Tara smiled, though it came out more like a grimace. She almost managed a laugh but her face scrunched in concentration.

"Do you hear that?" she asked. 

Willow only stared at her focused lover, lost. She then stilled her mind and there it was. A steady, whimpering. To be honest, she had heard it before but was too concerned with Tara and her own injuries to pay it much attention. 

"It sounds like somebody crying," Willow said and her heart stopped.

"Dawn," they both said in unison. 

"We have to see if she's okay," Tara said, snaking her arm around Willow's waist as the red head mimicked her. It took a few minutes of struggling, and coupled with grunts of pain, they managed to get to their feet. 

"Whoa," Tara said as she swayed.

"You okay, sweetie?" Willow asked. 

"Yeah," she reassured. "Just kinda got sucked onto the pain train is all." They both smiled, gaining strength from one another's touch. Their smiles faded as the sorrow-filled cries echoed through the winds. 

"It's coming from the back yard," Willow said. They both took measured strides down the steps, cautious of jarring their already throbbing injuries. Each step they took was marred with a painful reminder yet they continued forth without complaint. They scanned the yard when their gaze fell upon the huddled figure. 

"Faith," Tara whispered. 

The young girl lay on her side, knees drawn up to her chin, her hands pressed to her head. Her body twitched at irregular intervals and it didn't take much for the two to recognize that something happened. Something bad. 

The two Wiccas hobbled up to Faith's wrecked form. She was talking to herself. In an almost inaudible whisper, she kept repeating the same word; No. Willow dropped her arm from Tara's waist and the latter followed suit. The former bent down to touch the distraught girl but pulled back.

"What?" Tara asked.

"Well, I don't want to get her all stainy with blood, you know."

Tara smiled at Willow's uncertainty. Her eyebrows were arched in that way of hers when she didn't know what to do. Tara ran her knuckles down the right side of Willow's face. How she loved the petite red head. She was never really complete until she stumbled across Willow Rosenberg in the Wicca group meetings. How long had it been? Two years? Almost three. How quickly time scampered away with it all. The memories of bliss coupled with that of heartache. It was a roller coaster ride to the nth degree, the only thing constant her love for Willow. No matter what happened, she would always love her. 

She pulled herself back into reality and focused on the shaking woman in the grass. She'd have plenty of time to tell Willow how she felt. Now, she had to focus on Faith.

"Faith," Tara's fingertips touched Faith's naked arms and the young woman flinched violently, as if she had been struck. Startled, Tara fell backward onto her butt and winced at the pain ignited from the unwelcome jolt. She shut her eyes tightly and forced back the tears the pain threatened to usher forth. She shook it off and got to her knees with Willow's help. She reached her hand out again, her resolve stiffening. Whatever it was, this girl needed them.

"Faith," she said, her voice an eclectic blend of warmth and power. Willow looked at her former lover in admiration. Even her patented resolve face didn't carry the weight of authority _and _tenderness Tara just did. _You never cease to amaze me,_ she thought before turning back to Faith.

"Faith," Tara repeated, with more force. She laid a steady hand on the girl's shoulder. She flinched but Tara steadied her. "Faith, come back to us. We need you to tell us what happened. What happened to Dawn." Tara stopped when she saw the glint of recognition in Faith's eyes. 

"Dawn," she whispered. 

"She's not here," Willow chimed in. They watched as a transformation undertook Faith. The childlike fright vanished and was replaced with a warrior's focus

Faith's hands dropped from her head and pushed her to a sitting position. Willow was the first to notice the blood on the young woman's hands but said nothing. Other than her emotional turmoil, the future slayer didn't seem to be in too much physical discomfort. 

"He took her," Faith managed, though her voice was hoarse from crying. Her glazed eyes stared toward the house until they finally registered the two women in front of her. It didn't take her long to pinpoint the two injuries to the women. 

"You're injured," she said. She gave them a quick once over before stating what they had already assumed. 

"You are lucky he didn't rip your arms completely off," she said as she helped both women to their feet. 

"Well I guess we are lucky with that," Willow said sarcastically. She almost laughed when Faith gave her the look of annoyance. It was the classic glare Buffy usually saved for Spike. _Guess she really is Buffy's kid, _Willow mused. 

"Who…who is 'he'?" Tara asked and noticed Faith wince ever so slightly. 

"Later. Right now we have to get you all taken care of." Willow only nodded. Faith positioned herself between the two Wiccas and they draped their uninjured arms around her. The simple walk from the steps had taken a lot away from them and Willow felt the sharp pain in her head intensify. She wondered how Tara was coping. She kept silent on the slow walk, saving her strength. Whatever was going on, they were going to need it. And knowing that her and Tara were practically useless was why Willow did not push Faith to tell her the details. It wasn't as if they really could do anything right now anyway. They were never much of a threat in the physical sense but now, with their injuries, casting a simple glamour would be a Herculean task. Now if Xander were here… 

"Xander!" Willow yelped, and immediately regretted it. Nausea washed over her and she doubled over. She would have fell face first into the ground were it not for Faith's iron grip around her waist. 

"Take it easy, Willow," Faith said, almost smirking. _Spike's smirk_, the red head noticed. "I don't think Buffy would take to kindly to you hurling on her shoes, ya know. Though there is that best friend clause that gives said friend one free cookie toss on best friend's shoes." Everyone was silent as the two witches looked from Faith to each other and back again. Not trusting that their bodies could handle any form of laughter, they smiled broadly. 

Faith continued forward to the inside of the house. Her body still tingled horribly where he had touched, no, violated her earlier. And her mind began playing over and over the horrors he bestowed upon her before she escaped. She only wanted to be left alone to die. But now, between these two women that obviously loved one another and at one time loved her, she was hit with a surge of hope. Things were beyond hope in the future, but maybe that could change. Maybe together, here, now, with her family, everything would be all right. As the three women ambled up the steps, Faith said a prayer that this time they would find a way. 

***

They found Xander slumped against the wall, nose broken and throttle marks visible on his neck. Other than that, he was fine. Faith sat the two women on the couch before going to revive the unconscious man. 

Willow and Tara sat at opposite ends of the couch, their damaged goods slumped on the cushions. They watched as Faith carried Xander into the living room as if he were a child. She effortlessly placed him in the recliner opposite them. His head lolled to the side, arms and legs splayed out in all directions, the perfect picture of a man thoroughly inebriated. It would have been funny were his face not incrusted with dried blood.

"Not doin' so hot," Faith said to them. It wasn't a question. 

"Not so," Willow returned meekly. 

Faith stepped over the table. Yet another action that was quite amusing, considering her diminutive legs. 

"Bugger," she swore as her trailing shin banged against the table. She shook it off and perched herself on the cherry wood. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, content etched across her face while the rest of her body remained deathly still. Willow couldn't believe how much she looked like Buffy though on further inspection, the girl displayed several distinct features. 

"You both have severe concussions," she said, breaking Willow out of her physical analysis of the girl. Faith opened her eyes. "To top it off, the dislocations of your shoulders' will probably require surgery. But seeing as we only have about twenty-seven hours or so…well that only leaves us with one option."

"What is that?" Tara asked. Her eyes were heavy and she looked the worse off between the two.

"There is a spell, one of the first ones you taught me. It's very complex but I guess my mixed heritage gave me some advantages after all." She sighed at the puzzled look the Wiccas gave her. "Long story short, my body can withstand a lot more than your garden variety slayer or vampire for that matter. Moving on, the spell will alleviate you of the concussion and its effects. As far as the dislocation, it will lower the pain to tolerable levels."

"Tolerable?" Willow asked, stealing a glance toward Tara. "What do you mean tolerable? I mean, you are all with the bootie kicking and punching, but we…we aren't too familiar with the whole 'levels of toleration' thingy."

Faith chuckled at Willow's reservations. "It'll be like a really deep bruise. Don't worry." She knelt between them, her face serious but her eyes remained playful. Her eyes wavered between Tara and Willow. "So, who's first?"

***

"Thank God that's over," Willow gasped. Tara had gone first to steel her former lover's nerves and did a respectable job. Still, it did nothing to alleviate the pain of having your arm shoved back into the socket. She had shut her eyes thus she hadn't heard Xander creep over to hold her hand as Faith took the necessary actions. It only took Faith a few moments to recite the incantations for the spell. The pain in her head was completely gone, except for stinging sensation where the gash in her head was. The discomfort in her shoulder was just that, discomfort. No longer did it sing its own tune of blazing agony, but it was quite obvious to her that things were still amiss inside. She rotated her shoulder and winced. It was still tender but manageable. 

"It feels like I got a super duper shot of novocaine," she quipped, getting to her feet. "I mean, I can feel all the not so nice stuff rattling around and all but I can deal."

"Yeah," Tara continued, "there's no more of that 'oh my goodness, my arm is falling off' type of feeling. And that…that bass drum playing in my head retired for the evening." She felt Willow's eyes on her. "What? I can make quip-y comments too."

"No, it's not that," she took Tara's hand in her own, "it's just that…when I saw you there, your hair all matted with blood, I thought you were…" but she couldn't say it. The mere thought of Tara dead unnerved her in a way nothing else could. Even when Glory had brain sucked Tara, still Willow didn't feel the raw hollowness that overtook her when she first saw the blonde's unconscious form laying so still next to her. It was like a part of her was torn asunder, never to be put right again. Even if they weren't together, Willow knew she would be content just knowing this beautiful woman sitting across from her was okay.

A light caress broke Willow from her reverie. Tara. She looked at Willow so longingly as if she knew what had been on the red head's mind. Willow touched her hand and found that Tara's finger was wet. She touched her own cheek. It was also wet. She had been crying without even realizing it. 

"Sweetie, I understand. You don't have to say anything else." That stayed like that for a minute until muffled cries broke their moment. 

"Where's Faith?" Willow asked, noticing for the first time that the girl had left the room. Xander had left to pick up Anya ten minutes earlier. He promised to return as soon as he could but Faith had convinced him to get some rest. For whatever reason, he conceded but demanded that they call him with a plan of action as soon as Buffy got back. 

The two women cautiously made their way toward the sounds. "Faith?" Willow called out as they entered the kitchen. The noise was definitely close by though the island shielded their view from part of the kitchen. 

"Faith?" Tara half whispered. She crept around one side of the island and saw the source of the grief.

Faith sat with her knees to her chest, back against the cabinet. Her hands were pressed so tightly against her face that her veins threatened to pop through. Tara wasn't sure whether she was more disconcerted by that or the way Faith rocked back and forth against the wood paneling. Tara ran a hand through her blood-stained hair and lowered herself down to the floor. She saw that Willow had mimicked her as if to form a protective shield around the obviously distraught girl. They shared a brief glance of concern before Tara nodded for Willow to take action. 

"Faith, can you hear me?" Willow probed. She laid her hand uncertainly on Faith's bare shoulder. She almost recoiled at the touch and Willow could feel her shrinking away. She knew something really bad had happened to her but they needed Faith to tell them what was going on. Willow took a deep breath before focusing her resolve.

"Faith," the words came out as more of a command this time and the girl immediately looked up. And Willow wished she didn't have to see her face.

The young woman's face was wet with tears and red from her hands pressing into her skin so hard. Her lip trembled like a child awaiting reprimand. But her eyes. Willow failed to recall if she had seen such pain in someone as she stared at now. It was as if all the negative emotions were condensed and somehow transferred to this young woman before her. Loathing. Hatred. Self-hatred. A scorching fear. All were present as Faith's glassy eyes stared at her. But most of all, there was an overwhelming sense of hopelessness in them. The back of Willow's through was choked with tears as she looked at the mess of a person before them. Not twenty minutes ago, the confidence bled off this girl as she patched up their injuries. _How can this be the same person? _Willow asked. Her eyes widened as she remembered the helpless form her and Tara had come across in the back yard earlier. But she had put it together so fast. What happened? 

"What?" Willow asked, realizing that Faith was saying something. Tara had wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulder, the trail of tears visible on the Wicca's face. Her eyes were closed and she muttered something Willow couldn't quite hear. 

"Don't let him take me," Faith pled. The desperation in her voice was heart wrenching and it took all of Willow's effort not to burst into tears. "Please don't let him take me. Please." Fresh tears poured from Faith's eyes and Willow couldn't help but pull the frantic girl's head into her body.

"Nobody's gonna' take you," she reassured the girl. "Nobody's gonna hurt you."

"I…can't. I just can't let it happen…again. I'd rather die…" she choked before her words were drowned in a frenzy of harsh cries. 

The two women enveloped the shrieking girl with loving arms, though neither spoke. Words wouldn't help right now. Faith needed to let it all out, whatever it was. But Tara did know. A tiny portion of her mind knew the truth, why Faith was so utterly afraid of whomever it was that had taken Dawn and knocked them silly. The way Faith cringed when she had tried to console her or the wild look of revulsion that shone from those blue-green embers. She could only think of one thing that could have such a profound effect on a young woman this strong, transforming her into an impotent shell of her normal self. She knew, but she refused to acknowledge the words. 

_God, Dawn. _Tara thought and a shiver snaked up her spine. What if he tried to do the same thing to her? Why had he taken her? Yes, they needed Faith's help and fast. But for now, they'd let her cry. Tara wasn't sure the girl would ever get over it but she was a Summers; she'd deal. 

Tara closed her eyes and made a silent promise to Faith. No matter what it took, the man would never lay another hand on Faith again. She knew what that entailed and what she may have to do and though she had never killed, never even considered it, there was a first time for everything. 


	17. Glimpses of a Past Life

CHAPTER 17

Seth had never been mistaken for a patient man. He always did what felt right at that moment. If he wanted a car, he'd take it. If he wanted to have a woman, he'd take her. The law was none of his concern because he never got caught. And despite the streets less than favorable opinion of him, no one ever turned him in. He lived his life that way for twenty-eight years. Want. Take. Have. Repeat ad infinitum. Being turned had only increased his need to do _now_. He fed whenever, where ever and on whomever he pleased. For the most part Gabriel gave him free reign and he was grateful for it. 

That had been the only reason he staved his mantra for the past day. True, he had indulged on an afternoon snack 'n sack, but other than that, he behaved like a good lil' vampire. And that was why he was bouncing off the walls. 

"Booooring!" he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls of the building as he waited for a response from one of his allies. As if on cue, both the woman and her 'pet' sauntered into the room. 

"What is it now?" Rack asked, perturbed. Though there was the defiance in his voice, Seth also detected a twinge of fear. That, coupled with the warlock standing a good three feet behind the woman, was enough to dismiss his barb. 

Seth rolled his eyes, allowing an unneeded breath to pass from his lips. He ran his slender fingers through his shock of blond hair and laced them behind his head. He cocked his head to the side, in mock admiration of the man. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were being a tad bit impudent with me." Seth's mouth curled up in a smile though it fell well short of his eyes. "And you know how I so dislike that." And in the blink of an eye, Seth was standing by his side. Rack felt the vampire's breath on the back of his neck and tried to move but his biceps were caught in a painful iron grip. 

"You do know I dislike that, don't you?" The words were barely a whisper though Rack heard them loud and clear. 

"Are you finished with the grandstanding, Seth?" Jennifer asked. Seth dropped his hands from Rack's arms and walked away. 

"Yes, m'lady," he said, lowering his head ever so slightly. Seth had been surprised how easy this small woman had in tempering his domineering persona. Only two others had that same eerily calming effect on him and they were forty years away. 

Seth plopped back into the leather chair, one leg draped across its arm. His arms dangled lazily at the sides. To further signify his boredom, the young vampire puffed his cheeks in and out like an overgrown fish. A light smile touched Jennifer's lips though Rack kept his features decidedly neutral. 

"Patience, my warrior," she soothed and Seth caught himself mid-puff. Her voice was so mesmerizing. It tore through his emotions, drawing forth all his lust and admiration, though they were singed at the edges by a hint of fear. It also calmed his need for action. Only one person had ever had that effect on him. 

He shook those thoughts from his mind and focused on the now, on what had to be done. 

"So what do we do with the tyke?" he asked her. She smiled, somewhat condescendingly and for a moment Seth wanted nothing more than to rip her pretty little head from those slight shoulders of hers. Again, her words, though terse, settled his demon.

"I am preparing what needs to be done now. Rack here is working on a teleportation spell for us to enter the Bronze, after your minions clear the building…"

"Yeah, about that minion thing," Seth interrupted. She raised her pencil thin eyebrows. "Well, I seriously doubt that any of our little hit squad is left."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, considering my slayer made short work of the three Flanzen'da demons, I seriously doubt the other two had much trouble with Primus and his little cohort."

"So why send them?" It was Rack. 

"Pretty much for shits 'n giggles, to be honest," both figures stared at him, awaiting elaboration. His head fell back in exasperation. "Jesus, people. I was bored. Wanted to see my trollop in action, and since she doesn't have to heart to fight me, that pretty much nixed the idea for any type of one on one."

"The other two would have sufficed, would they not?" Jennifer asked. 

"No," Seth replied, a little too forcefully. Jennifer met him with a stare of indignation but he ignored it. "I told you, those two are too important. They are off limits." He cast a warning stare toward the dark haired woman and he was taken aback how quickly she acquiesced. 

"As were the slayer's friends, I take it?" she questioned.

"Well, they're alive," he replied matter-of-factly. 

"That will suffice," she said, "as long as they are all here for the ritual tomorrow night."

"And after tomorrow night," he stretched out across the chair like a big cat before he stood. "You will have your little girl and I will have mine." He stopped even with Rack. "And we get to have a little one on one chat before I leave," the words were spoken in a low growl, leaving Seth's implications quite clear. 

"Now," he said, sauntering through the double doors to the back of the building, "let's see if little miss teen's got in all her beauty sleep." 

Rack looked to Jennifer questioningly, and she only nodded toward the door. He followed Seth apprehensively, with her close behind. Yes, this Seth was quite an interesting character. If only she had more time to enjoy his company in the fullest sense. She chuckled lightly. Somehow she would have him. Not now but she would have him. And if everything went as planned tomorrow night, her desire for Seth would fall neatly into place. 

***

Falling off a nice, comfortable couch onto a hard floor, for all intents and purposes, was an immediate, though not ideal, wake-up call. Even if it just so happened that said person had been strangled into unconsciousness. 

Dawn Summers butt hitting the hardwood floor was that wake-up call. 

She sat there for several minutes, attempting to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what happened. 

_Okay, Summers, _she said to herself, _focus. Faith was fighting some ninja turtle/armadillo thingies. I stop her. Willow and Tara are out on the porch. I run to them…_

"Hello, darling," a voice interrupted. Dawn's eyes shot open and she yelped in surprise. Instinctively, she scooted away from the approaching blond until her back slammed into a bookcase. She hugged her knees tightly to her chest, never taking an eye off the intruder. 

Seth strolled across the floor, casually taking in the surroundings. It was nothing fancy. There were several bookcases partitioned around the room, their shelves littered with books. The office furniture was a mahogany set; an above average desk, with three 'interrogation' chairs situated in front of it. A small ovalish table with two more chairs was positioned to the left of the door. And then there was the beautiful leather couch that sat caddy corner to the desk where he had laid the girl earlier. 

Dawn wasn't interested in the stranger's fascination with the surroundings, but was grateful for the time he gave her to assess him. 

_'Always know your enemies, nibblet', Spike_ had told her once. _'Find something you can use against 'em. Everyone has a weak spot.'_

He was about six feet tall, with a wiry frame, but powerful. Though his arms were covered in tattoos, Dawn saw his cable-like veins bob to the surface as he meandered closer to her. He moved with an inhuman gracefulness and Dawn knew that he was a vampire. 

He stopped two feet from her and cocked his head to the side in amusement. She knew he could smell her fear, and despite the tears welling up in her eyes, Dawn refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror that wanted so much to form onto her face. 

"What do you want from me?" her voice was low and angry. She had obstructed any of the fear she was feeling from bleeding into her words. The man chuckled humorously before squatting in front of her, his forearms resting on his knees.

"Now is that any way to treat a friend?" Dawn was struck by the sincerity of his voice although it was a farce. 

"You're not my _friend,_" she spat. His left eyebrow arched and she noticed he had a scar strangely similar to Spike's. Come to think of it, his eyes were that same piercing blue…

"Well, that doesn't mean I can't be your friend."

Dawn laughed hollowly and locked into his eyes. No, they weren't the same. There was something…artificial about them. 

"What? You don't think I want to be your friend?" 

"People usually don't strangle and kidnap someone they want to be friends with," Dawn replied.

"Well, yeah but to each his own, right?"

"Whatever." At that, the vampire burst out into cascading laughter. 

"Guess you're not buying that routine, are ya?" Dawn responded with her patented teenager eye-roll. 

"Okay, ya got me. So I don't want to be your friend…"

"What do you want with me?" She interrupted. He pursed his lips and raised one hand up to them in contemplation. His eyes drifted to the ceiling. Dawn resisted the urge to kick him in the face but she didn't want to irk him just yet. 

"Word to the wise, sweetie. Don't interrupt me again."

"Why not? What are you gonna do?" She countered with a hint of challenge in her tone. 

His amusement faded and he slammed his hands to either side of her head, causing her to jump. His face was only a few inches from hers and though he whispered the next words, she could hear them clearly enough. 

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Dawn could only stare at him with wide eyes, her tears now falling in full-force. This close she could really see into his eyes and they were definitely un-Spike like. They didn't even look human. The closer she looked, the more she could see a faint tinge of fluorescent green within the irises. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. For that one moment her fear was abated by a natural curiosity. The latter was broken when she felt his fingertips trace the side of her face. 

"You have such soft skin," he said longingly. Dawn wanted to scream at his proximity but it would have been useless. She wanted to call out for her protector. Spike had been there when Buffy wasn't. But it didn't matter. No one was going to save her. She watched the stranger's eyes travel up and down her body. She shivered as he continued his diatribe.

"Softer than my slayer. Of course, she's all scarred now. Not as sexy to feel but sexier to look at, I think." Dawn's eyebrows furrowed questioningly. _His _slayer? Scars? And then she knew. Faith had never answered Dawn about the scars, how they had gotten there. The answer was right in front of her. 

Before she knew what she was doing, Dawn's right hand wrapped around the vampire's wrist. Her fingernails dug into his flesh and he didn't move. The shock that registered on his face made her clamp down even more forcefully and she felt the distant surge of energy clawing forth from within her. 

"You. Will. Not. Touch. Her. Ever. Again," she commanded, each word overwrought with venom and promise of retribution. The stranger's look of shock transformed into pain as Dawn heard the distant sizzle of flesh. She held onto his arms for a few more seconds before she pushed him with an inhuman strength. The vampire slid ten feet across the floor, stopping at the feet of two new strangers. 

The room was quiet for several seconds. Both Rack and Seth looked at the young girl with fear and wonder while Jennifer couldn't hide her exhilaration.

_This will be even better than I thought. Her power is still there,_ she mused, _yet it must be locked away somewhere within her. _

"Seth, are you all right?" she asked aloud. The vampire didn't answer her as he stared in disbelief at what just transpired. He scrambled to his feet, pushing past his two allies and stumbled into the other room. He was gasping for air, as if he were about to hyperventilate. He put his hands onto the island in the middle of the room to steady himself. He risked a glance at where she had touched him. His skin was seared and all that was left in its place was a small handprint that radiated with a green tint. The pain had yet to register in his mind. 

"It can't be," he muttered, shaking his head at even the possibility of it all. True, the girl did bare a resemblance to her but that was it. The young girl didn't have that olive complexion or the dark features, yet the shape of her face, her voice; those similarities were uncanny. 

Seth raked his hands through his tangled hair; not even flinching as his nails dug into his scalp. How could it be possible? Could they be one and the same? If there was only a way to find out…

Seth's eyes shot open at the thought and he unzipped his vest, dropping it to his feet. He examined the print on his forearm more closely. The pain was starting to rear its decidedly uncomfortable head but he was more concerned with other things. 

The vampire lifted his black tank top over his head, his eyes surveying his ripped stomach. He had always been proud of his build and flaunted it whenever possible, yet now was not one of those times. He twisted his hips and lifted his arm to get a better glimpse of an old souvenir. 

There, on his left side, right below his ribs was the exact same handprint. The skin had never completely healed thus resembled scar tissue more than anything. And though human eyes could not discern it, vampiric sight picked up on the glow. The same fluorescent green radiance. Even more disconcerting was that the hands were identical in size. 

His jaw dropped and he glared with incredulity at the door he had just exited, totally ignorant of the pain, which was now in full force. 

"Impossible," he whispered before finding himself inextricably stumbling back to the teenage girl. 

***

It took Dawn a minute to adjust to her new situation. Actually, adjust wasn't quite accurate. It was more along the lines of _realizing _her situation that her brain was processing. The two figures staring at her from across the room were the least of her concerns as she twisted her wrist back and forth horrified at what this little hand had just done. Though there no ill effects to her that she could detect, the faint smell of burned flesh permeated her nostrils. That single revelation churned her stomach and she was emptying the contents of her stomach on the wooden floor. 

"That's it, let it out," a melodic feminine voice encouraged. Dawn vaguely sensed a hand holding her hair back, but between her retching and sobs of disgust she had no time to ponder any other courses of action. 

After what seemed like two hours to her, her stomach finally settled and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Dawn sat up, startled by the beautifully familiar face staring back at her in concern and…intrigue? 

"Are you feeling better?" The dark-haired woman asked. "Did he hurt you?" Dawn managed to shake her head. "Good. I'm sorry if he did. It wasn't our intention to harm you." _Not yet, _she added internally. 

"What do you want from me?" Dawn asked. She couldn't help staring at the woman. She had seen her somewhere before. 

Jennifer patted Dawn's trembling hand and elicited a genuine smile. She spoke reassuring words to the teen, though Dawn wasn't listening. She was too busy studying this woman's features. The woman had a face that stood out. She had an almost exotic beauty to her, like she was from a fairy tale or something. It was apparent that she had an ethnic heritage, though the young brunette couldn't quite place her origins. Only if she listened more when Giles was helping her with…

Dawn's scowl shifted into utter disbelief as it clicked whom this woman standing before her was. 

"Ms. Calendar?" she choked out. 

No sooner had her words hit the air that Seth stormed in and gazed at Dawn. Dawn was taken about by the intensity of his eyes. She flinched, expecting to see hate or rage but they were decidedly absent. Instead, he looked at her with some sort of admiration? Affection? Love?

"Emerald…" he said, falling to his knees, his eyes transfixed on Dawn. 

_This day couldn't get any weirder if it tried, _she thought before burying her face in her hands. 


	18. Conversations I

CHAPTER 18

The feel of empty space next to her awoke Buffy from her slumber. She moaned grumpily before her eyes shot open in fear. She sat up anxiously calling his name as her heart hammered in her chest. 

"Spike," she called to the darkness, her voice husky from sleep and, prior to that, her screams of pleasure. "Spike?" she whispered into the darkness before her again. _Was it all a dream? _She asked herself. _All of this? Faith. Him with me? _She clutched the thin sheets tightly against her breasts, fearful of what was going on. Then the thought hit her. _What if he's dead? I saw him die. No, it can't be. _

"What can't be, luv?" a familiar voiced questioned through the shroud of lightlessness that blinded her. She glared over toward the sound and jumped as an orange flame blinked into existence. The orange beast rested atop a black altar. Then another and another. She stopped counting after awhile, her eyes closing in silent prayer. She could feel the warmth of the candles that now illuminated the once void of the crypt. Buffy exhaled raggedly as she laid her head back against the satin pillows, tears threatening her once again. It wasn't until the cool comfort of a familiar body lay next to her that they fell. 

"Miss me, pet?" he asked seductively as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, bringing her closer. He knew the chance he was taking, with her being the queen of rejection and all, but his slight confidence in the matter was bolstered slightly by how she had held onto him not an hour ago as they fell into a post-coital embrace. And of course, there were the words she had spoken to him in the forest. 

Relieved at her discovery that the last few hours wasn't just some torturous apparition in her mind, Buffy melted into Spike, her hand resting lightly on his chest. She tried to stave off the tears, or at the least hide them from him, neither goal being accomplished. 

Spike was instantly aware of the all too familiar warmth of her tears as they fell upon his cool flesh. The arm wrapped around her brushed her hair absently while his free hand caressed her wet face. 

"What is it, luv?" he asked, his concern evident as his guts tensed. He always hated to see women cry, especially Summers' women. 

She didn't speak for several minutes and her breathing returned to its regular intervals, or as normal as it could get this close to him. All the while, her right hand traced over to the rapidly fading scar of his the stake had made when it was driven through his chest, only inches from his heart. She hadn't given much thought to it before, but it had healed unusually fast. 

"You healed fast," she said, her fingers still wandering over the wound. She had tried for casual and failed miserably. Just the thought of how close she had been to losing him made her want to cry all over again but she refused. 

Spike's cocked his head to the side, both her face and hand in his immediate vision. Though her eyes were hidden at an angle where he couldn't see them, the lines of grief at the corners of them were clearly visible. That, and the way her body tensed when she spoke. 

"Seems I did," he offered, miffed at the fact just as much as she did. He absently ran his hand through his tousled blond locks before returning it back to her skin. This time, he rubbed gently against her forearm, feeling her hairs prickle at his touch.

"Guess it's the new O-neg I've been drinking. Gives a vampire healthy bones and all that rot." She chuckled and his face cowled at her indignantly. "What? Just 'cause a bloke's immortal doesn't alleviate him from ingesting the proper vitamins." She laughed again, softly but Spike couldn't help but feel enveloped by the warmth of her. It was a reminder as to why he first fell in love with her in the first place. 

After a minute of residual chuckles, she fell silent again. Spike didn't mind the silence. _At least she's not kickin' n screamin' for me to let her go, _he mused. And it was true. The only times Buffy had ever hung around were when she passed out from exhaustion. After she awoke, however, it was ultimately, 'Thank you for that right proper scratchin', gotta go.' She never knew how much it hurt him every time she did it. _Damn her, _he thought, pouting inwardly. But it wasn't her fault, well not entirely. He was the one that always answered her call. True, he did tell her to leave that **one **time, but how long had his resolve lasted on that one? All the way until the next time she came calling. 

__

Bloody poofter I am, he admonished himself, unaware of his muscles tensing. Buffy, though she was on the verge of dozing back off, felt the tension marinating within the vampire's cool body. Her dormant hand again began its circular jaunt around his chest. Some of the tension eased from him though there was still too much in reserves for her tastes. Her fingers lazily massaged his chest before she caught his nipple between her thumb and forefinger. He gasped as she kneaded it, his body filling with a more welcoming anxiety.

"Buffy," he whispered as her leg draped between his teasingly moved up and down, her thigh every so often bumping against his burgeoning erection. His around her shoulders fell limply against the pillow as he felt her petite hand grip his member. 

"Buffy," he shuddered as her warm palm stroked him up and down, rekindling his insatiable desire for her. He was so lost in her gentle yet firm strokes that he was barely aware of her moving until she straddled his thighs. The warmth bled from her core as she moved it closer to his throbbing form of masculinity. 

Buffy continued to massage the hard member in her hand as she stretched her legs out against his. She smiled at the content etched in is face and knew what she had to do. 

Without warning, she raised her hips just enough to accommodate his entrance into her. Spike gasped, flinging his eyes open at the unexpected pleasure. He glared down the length of their bodies touching. Her legs rested artfully on his as if she was mirroring him exactly. To finish the image, her arms rested on his as the two lovers' fingers intertwined in a passionate embrace. Spike felt the ecstasy of her embrace though she barely moved. She chuckled at the surprise that registered in his eyes. 

"Slayer muscles," she whispered to him as her lips traced his jaw line and her teeth gently closed around his bobbing adam's apple. He shuddered as she clamped down harder, this time against his jugular and a low growl echoed against her lips though she wasn't sure from whom it had come from. She smiled into his neck at the thought of her growling and tried to stifle it before he caught it. 

"Something funny, Slayer?" he teased. _Damn,_ she thought at being discovered, which only made her smile even more so. "Wanna let me in on the jo…oh," he said. She interrupted him by a purposeful squeeze of her inner walls. She knew this had caused the look of confusion on his face earlier but this time she had put most of her muscle into it. Needless to say, it accomplished the desired task. 

"No talking," she cooed into his ear, simultaneously biting down on his earlobe. "Except for me," she added before he could protest. She found his slightly parted lips with her own and they joined in a passionate dance between lips and tongues. Several seconds passed before she had the coordination to implement the steady grind and rotation of her hips against him. He moaned, almost purred, inside her mouth, as she spilled her desire into his with every kiss. _Every desire, _she thought and broke their tangled kiss. She felt him tense with desire for renewed contact but she pulled away just enough to be out of reach of his patrolling tongue. 

"Look at me," she commanded softly and his eyes fluttered open. She continued her deliberate rhythm, her swollen peak grinding against the base of his shaft. The kinetic pull of his body to hers was still unbelievable to her and she didn't want anything more to be enveloped by it. That's when she truly realized the reasons she had come to Spike in the first place. 

She stopped the grind of her hips and looked at him…really looked at him. He motioned to speak but she placed a trembling finger over his lips. She stared into those blue orbs of his, barely able to hold his gaze. But she had to. She had almost lost him today and she had to convey the rest of the message to how she felt for him. When she said she wanted to make love, she had meant it. With those few words, she had lowered her walls just enough to admit that she did care for Spike. She cared for him a lot more than she was willing to admit. The point of it her migration to his friendship then to his loving embrace was never because he was convenient (she shuddered at the cruelty of that word). True, he did make her feel when she thought all her senses were dulled beyond retrieval. He made her feel with a capital 'F' but that was not the only reason. Nor was the reason the comfort of trading barbs with him; that only was an extension of feeling for the fire she had lost. Though all of it had been important, there was one thing she was loathe to admit about his presence. 

It made her feel safe. 

Buffy didn't truly understand how feeling _something _and feeling safe were different, she just knew that they were. Try as she might, during the whole Glory ordeal, she felt his protective shroud around her. The absurdity of it was astounding. How could you feel safe with someone you didn't completely trust? She didn't know the answer and again she only succumbed to the fact that it was true. 

Buffy removed her other hand from his and rested her palms flatly on his chest. He deserved to know that. All of it. He needed to know that he was something more than just a 'convenience'. Despite his bravado, Buffy could read his insecurities about their trysts. Even now, after they had made love on her behest, still there was that certainty in his eyes that it was only a matter of time before she kicked him to the side, all the while wiping her feet from the dirt rubbed onto her from him. There was no way she could alleviate all his fears, but she could lighten some of the burden at least. 

"Look at me, Spike," she said, her hips discovering that familiar rhythm. He gasped and his long lashes fluttered. "Don't close your eyes," she prodded and he complied, albeit with great difficulty. 

Spike looked at the beauty above him in reverie. _I don't deserve this_, he scolded himself. _I am the antithesis of all she stands for. I can only hurt her in the end. How can't I? I'm just a soulless monster, incapable of love…_

Buffy saw the wavering in his eyes and knew where his thoughts were heading. Though he was strong and hard inside of her, she could see him breaking, withering within. A tear escaped from her hazel eye and splashed onto his pale skin. When he didn't look up, Buffy knew his despair was growing. Finally, he did look up, concern flashing over his eyes and despite it all, she knew it would be fleeting. This creature's…no, this **man's **love for her, was slowly eroding him. All the times he had declared his love for her, she had only thrown it back into his face, violently. Sometimes with her fists, other times with words that were far more damaging. How could she fix this? The only way was for her to be honest with him. But how could she when she couldn't be honest with herself? 

Buffy rocked against Spike, his erection exploring her deeper with each grind. His wide eyes, temporarily clear from the pain, were transfixed as her body moved up and down on him. She knew what he needed, what he needed to hear. And the more the thought crossed her mind, the more she realized that it was true. Of course, there were the parts that denied it as well, but as her lover would scoff, _sod all else. _

She cupped his angular cheeks in her hands, her gaze never wavering from the marveled vision of love staring back at her. The warmth she felt from that look quickened her pace. It was only a matter of time before they spilled over the edge of ecstasy into indescribable borders of pleasure. She had to say something now. Something she could bring herself to say. 

"Look at me, Spike," she repeated her words from several minutes ago. Their eyes locked and she knew there was no turning back. "Remember this. If you ever doubt how I feel about you, remember how I'm looking at you now," her core tightened around his shaft and she was barely able to keep her eyes open. But she had to finish now while the iron was hot, before she lost her nerve. 

"Remember the way my…body responds to you," she stuttered as the first wave hit her, "and the look in my eyes. Promise me…" she screamed his name as the orgasm ripped through her petite body. Still, her gaze never wavered. "Promise me," she choked as another heated spasm rocked her core.

Spike was in awe of her. She was, as best she could, baring her soul to him. He didn't know what to say and was unaware as the words "I promise" fell from his lips as he simultaneously began his extensive release into her. 

"Tell me," she panted as the second orgasm slowly crept into her loins. "Tell me…"

He didn't need her to elaborate as the needful look in her eyes spoke volumes. 

"I love you, Slayer…Buffy, I love you," he gasped as his explosion died into languid spurts. 

Finally, as her second tide of pleasure ebbed, Buffy fell forward onto Spike's chest, her face nuzzled between his shoulder and neck. The lovers' pants were in sync though only one required oxygen. They lay there, for several minutes before her body tensed again. Spike wanted to ask her what was wrong but, surprisingly, she beat him to it. 

"Don't leave me," she forced out in the voice of a child begging not to be scolded. His undead heart seized at the raw fear in her voice. His mind raced. He wanted nothing more than to spit her a litany of soothing words to assuage her fears. But whether it was ten words or a hundred, it didn't matter. What mattered was the conviction behind them. So he answered succinctly. 

"Never, luv."

He felt her body slightly relax before she said, "Promise?" He thought that word over. Could he actually promise that? What if she threatened his life? What if he had to go away to protect her? What if…?

"Promise, luv," the simplicity of his reply cutting away all his what-ifs. All but one. 

Spike felt Buffy relax and almost immediately fall into a resting sleep at his assurances. He did know one thing and one thing only; that no matter what happened, what she said or did, he would never leave her alone. Even if that meant staying away from her yet being there when she needed to be, he would do it regardless of the pain it would cause. He would do it because he loved her, wholly and completely. 

He closed his eyes and drifted off to the land of dreams next to his love. The last thought he remembered had been the only 'what-if' that refused to die. She had made him promise not to leave and he had done just that. 

But what if she was the one that left him?

That last thought was enough to drive away any chances at a peaceful slumber. 


	19. Conversations II

***Well, people, here is part two of _Conversations by Candlelight. _Maybe this time, Spike and Buffy will actually **talk. **Of course, we know how good Buffy is about expressing her feelings…

***Much thanks to _Annastasia_ for her shout out to me on the update of her _Change Series _fic. Imagine if that spell Spike wanted Willow to do for him in season three worked on a certain blond slayer instead…check out her fic to find out. 

CHAPTER 19

Spike awoke to a light pressure on his chest. He forced his eyes open and chuckled at the sight of Buffy's two fingers 'walking' up the center of his body, her face hidden under the splay of her golden locks. 

"Havin' fun, pet?" he asked, a hand automatically taking up residence in Buffy's unkempt hair. He felt her smile into his ribs. _Good, _he thought to himself. _Poor girl hasn't had much to smile about, I reckon. _And a swell of pride filled him knowing that he was the reason she was with the happies. 

"So," came her muffled voice, "do you like work out or is all this lean muscle left over from your warm-blooded days?" Her head bobbed as his throaty laugh shook his body. 

" William the bookworm, a chiseled morsel like this? Hardly! No, luv. It's definitely an addition from a hundred plus years of fighting. Kind of gets you in shape quick-like. S'not like you have a choice, 'specially when you 'ave to fight for you life every night."

"Well, serves you right for making delicacies of the locals," she teased, poking him playfully in the ribs. 

"Hey. I'll have you know that if I hadn't taken bites from said delicacies, then yours truly would be right and shriveled right about now," he lowered his voice seductively, "and as you well know, pet, there isn't an inch on me that's shriveled in any way, shape or form." He traced her side with his fingers and observed the goose bumps that bubbled to the surface. 

"'Sides," he finished, "wasn't talking bout the crowds, luv. Or the hunters." At that, Buffy scooted further down and rested her chin just above his abs where she could look him in the eye. Their eyes met and Buffy suppressed an involuntary shiver. _What is it about him that always does that to me? _She questioned herself. Truth be told, Buffy knew exactly what it was. For whatever reason, Spike was gifted in the art of seeing the truth in everything. Christ, he had done it with Angel, when she informed the then evil vampire that she and his sire were 'just friends'. It sounded good to her but he had ripped the blindfold she had so desperately notched over her eyes away, forcing her to face reality. And even now, months after her return trip to this…this place… he never failed to give her the unbridled truth, regardless of what she wanted to hear. 

'_You'll crave me like I crave blood…' _she remembered him saying. And he was right, too. She did crave him, still did. Probably always would in some way. But she had fruitlessly tried convincing herself that it was a slip. A slip that was just as addictive as heroin or Willow's meteoric descent into the world of dark magic. 

_Just as dangerous, too, _the voice (prude Buffy) reminded her. 

_Dangerous in what way?_ Carefree Buffy countered. _Are you afraid of what he can do to you?_

Of course. He's a vampire; I'm a slayer. Hence, mortal enemies.

But he's been able to hurt you for some time now, Carefree Buffy replied with confidence. 

_Yeah, but..._prude Buffy's resilience faltered. 

_Or are you afraid of what he'll do if you give all of yourself to him?_

Buffy snapped out of her internal diatribe as Spike's caress along the base of her neck elicited a sharp pang of desire. She moaned into his pale flesh, wanting nothing more than to once again feel him inside of her. But not now. She wanted to talk to him. 

"So what were you talking about?" She offered. _Yeah, a little pillow talk. _

"What's that, luv?" he asked, his fingertips deftly stroking the flesh between her shoulder blades. 

"When you said you had to fight every night." Buffy noticed Spike's lower jaw clench but waited patiently for an answer. 

"S'not important, luv," he said, waving a dismissive hand in the air, "just your typical sire-childe relationship." He turned his head to the side but before he did, Buffy caught the flash of resentment pass through his eyes. She thought the better of pursuing that line of questioning. Buffy didn't really want her thoughts to dwell on her ex's relationship with her current boyfriend's. It was bordering on the…

Buffy gasped involuntarily and slammed her eyes shut as Spike whirled around to meet her gaze. 

_Did I just think of him as my 'boyfriend'? _She asked herself incredulously. She rolled onto her back, covering her face with her small hands. 

"Buffy?" Spike inquired, rolling over to his side. His chin rested casually in the palm of his hand, though his scowl was anything but. "What's wrong, pet?" He placed a tentative hand against the smooth muscles of her stomach, rubbing concentric circles around her navel. 

Buffy gasped at Spike's cool touch, letting out a sound bordering between a moan and a grunt. Slowly, she slid her hands down her face, exposing her bright, wide eyes. She craned her neck to the left, wanting so much to avoid the acid gaze of the blond next to her but understanding that she couldn't run. She couldn't help but admire the sharp angles of his face nor his paradoxical stare. It was both hard and cold yet warm and filled with an immeasurable compassion. It was unfathomable to her how such a remorseless killer, ex-killer, could contain even a tenth of the love that stared back at her now. 

Lowering her hands, Buffy lifted her head and grazed her lips ever so slightly against Spike's. As quickly as the kiss started, it ended and the blond vampire stared at the love of his life, perplexed. Not thirty seconds ago, he saw the dear-in-headlights look as she covered her face and he was terrified that she had regret what she had said to him earlier. Now, her green eyes twinkled with excitement and trepidation. He stroked the side of her face and she brought her free hand up, intertwining their fingers together, their hands coming to rest on her hip. Spike knew she wanted to say something by the way her lip quivered and her breath quickened. And of course, there was said look. 

__

I can't do it again, he thought dejectedly. _Once was enough. I can't hear it. I just can't. _

"Spike…"

"Look, pet," he interrupted, anguish welling up within him, "you don't have to say it."

"Say what?" She asked. Buffy could see the change in Spike's demeanor. He had gone from concerned to the familiar look of hurt she was so often the cause of. Except this time, he didn't bother to hide it. 

He sighed unnecessarily before continuing. "Look, Slayer. I know you were a right bit relieved when you didn't have to hoist a dirt devil over your shoulder to collect my remains." Buffy opened her mouth to speak but the vampire didn't give her a chance. 

"You don't have to say it, ok?" He smiled weakly, tears playing at the corners of his eyes. "I know you feel something for me." And for the first time in all their conversations about their feelings, Spike lowered his eyes. His next words were so low that Buffy had to strain to hear them. 

"But it's not love. It never will be. You were right; you can't love me. I'm nothing more than a soulless monster…" At his words, Buffy twisted her hand out of Spike's embrace. The first emotion that came to her, as it usually was with Spike, was anger. She had just bared as much of herself to him as she had ever done and here he was, dismissing it like it was nothing more than a flight of fancy for her. The anger was soon abated as a solitary tear tumbled down his pallid cheek. She covered her mouth to stifle a cry. He looked so defeated in front of her now. It couldn't be him. This was the indomitable William the Bloody, scourge of Europe. Feared by men and demons alike. This wasn't him. This wasn't the same man that withstood hours of torture by a hell-god to keep her little sister safe. This wasn't the Spike that never took no for an answer. That clawed and fought for every crumb. This couldn't be.

But it was. And the revelation that this was the same Spike, the same William the Bloody, only broken and hopeless, pierced her heart. And for the first time Buffy openly admitted to herself that she had been wrong about him. 

He had fought by their sides for how long now? Two, three years? And though in the beginning, he was little more than a hired gun, the last year he had asked for nothing in return. Sure, he may have been a sarcastic and egotistical son of a bitch if there ever was one, but now she understood why. It was a shield; a buffer that was his only protection from the harsh reality of his situation. For over one hundred years he had only known one way to live. And to be violated, to have it taken away unwillingly had to have been devastating. Buffy didn't lament the fact that he couldn't kill anymore but she could relate to the pain, fear and purposelessness he undoubtedly felt. The Council tests on her 18th birthday had deprived her of her slayer strength. To have everything that she was ripped away, albeit for a short time, was beyond words. And she had been a slayer for two years. She couldn't imagine Spike's frustration, losing who he was after a century. 

But he had adapted and though it was a gradual process, began to change. No longer did he fight the 'good fight' because demons were the only thing he could hurt. Though she knew he'd never admit it, Buffy could see the gleam of satisfaction after a night of slaying. Was it the violence, the bloodlust that satiated him? In all likely hood. But underneath it all, she saw a hint of someone proud that they were doing the right thing. The conflict raging inside of him between William the Man and his demon soul, having no moral compass to anchor the man had to be unbelievably hard. And what had she done when? Thrown it back in his face. _You can't love. You can't change. You don't care. You are a monster. _Every terrible thing she had said to him over the past few years was visible in his face. How hard must it be to know it is in your nature to revel in destruction yet go against that natural disposition? And to make the task infinitely harder, having those you respect and care for ridicule your attempts of reformation.

Buffy reached a trembling hand out, lifting his chin. The tears at the back of her throat burned, screaming for a release and when she looked into his eyes, she let them free. Though only a single tear had escaped its prison from his eyes, those still unshed where visible and Buffy knew he kept them at bay by force of will alone. She cursed herself for being such a fool to think that a few hours of actual lovemaking could erase the hurt and pain and uncertainty of two years. It was something that would take time. 

The petite slayer ran her hands through the emotionally wounded vampire's hair. Every so slowly, with a strong gentleness, Buffy pulled Spike closer to her. At first he resisted, but the determination in her eyes forced him to concede. She craned her neck to the side and kissed his parted lips. Too lost in his own misery, Spike didn't return Buffy's probing. A part of him sensed the urgency in her languid exploration of his lips, as if she were so desperately trying to tell him something. But the other part of him, the William part saw her tenderness as pity. Pity at how her scathing words would undoubtedly burn him beyond any semblance of the man…or monster he was.

He tensed when she released his lips, her tongue tracing a final outline of them before he lost contact. Buffy saw the wretched pain in his eyes and she knew he was waiting for her customary send off. What would it be this time? His eyes voiced. She closed her eyes in hopes of wiping the mask of hopelessness he now wore from her mind. But it was impossible. And Buffy knew that no matter what, the memories of his pain would forever stay with her. 

Slowly, Buffy's eyes fluttered open and Spike refused to turn away this time. _The least I can do is make her look me in the eye when she does it, _he thought, rousing up an anger he didn't feel. Usually, a scorn from Buffy ignited the fury of his demonic tenant. But now, even the demon was silent, loathing to come out and bask in the torment of being ridiculed by love yet again. 

How many times had she told him he was nothing? How many times had she bid him to leave? Yet he never did. And he never lost faith in one day winning her over. Until now. When she asked him to make love to her, Spike had been grateful that he was in fact dead. Were he human, his heart would have undoubtedly seized up from sheer joy. Though most people would think otherwise, every time they were intimate, no matter the setting, no matter the urgency, he was making love to her. But to finally have her initiate it, was all that he had hoped for. On the way back to the crypt, Spike knew that there was no turning back. No shags of 'convenience' or kisses of comfort. It was all or nothing and for a moment Spike had foolishly believed it could work. But this was Buffy; he should have known better. 

_At least she has the guts to tell me to my face, _he mused. He wanted so much to yell and scream, get lost in his anger, to hide the hurt. But it just wasn't in him. 

"Spike," Buffy said as calmly as he ever heard her speak. "I know the way I've treated you-the way we've treated each other-over the past three years has been anything but healthy. And though for awhile we were both at fault, it's been me who's been the bad guy for the past year or so…"

"Buffy," he said but she held her hand up.

"Please. Just let me do this…William," Spike froze at the mention of his former name. She had only called him that once and that was when…

Spike shut his eyes tight and nodded for her to continue. She curled her petite hand around his thumb and pulled his arm toward her. Spike instinctively opened his eyes when her hammering heart vibrated against his knuckles. Her eyes were so serious. _Well, here comes the coup de grace. _He was thrown off by an irony-tinged smile. Before he could speak, Buffy answered Spike's 'what the bleedin hell is goin' on?' scowl.

"It's just that I don't know where to begin. For as long I as I've been the slayer, it's been black and white. Vampire bad. Me vampire slayer. Me kill vampire. Of course I then fall in love with a vampire," she sensed his body tense but pressed on, "but there was a legitimate excuse. Said vampire has soul. Unique, one in a million thing. I should have known then everything wasn't black and white. But I hid in that little shell of mine that denies entrance of anything Buffy doesn't want to deal with. And for awhile, it stayed simple." She smiled wistfully and Spike couldn't help but return it, albeit lacking his usual vibrancy. 

"That's when you came to me when I really needed it. I never would have been able to stop Angelus without you," she let the thanks pour from her eyes but continued on. "You were so different than any other vampire I had met. You were as unique as Angel was with his soul," Buffy waited for a biting retort but the vampire remained shockingly silent. _It must be really bad, _she thought sadly. 

"At first I didn't know what it was. Then with the chip and everything you were no longer my mortal enemy. Even when you started helping us- for a price, of course," that light barb actually elicited a genuine smirk, "I didn't realize what it was. I knew you could love. Well," she conceded, "maybe not then. It was all 'irrational Buffy' when it came to you. Of course, the rational part of me, which is quite small at times, was shouting how if you had feelings you could love just as well as us. I mean, you were with Dru for what? A hundred years. If that's not devotion, I don't know what is. Of course, chaining me to the wall in your crypt didn't exactly help your case, either." Spike smiled but it failed to reach his eyes. In any other situation, he would have interrupted her at least three times. But the symphonic ache in his chest stilled his tongue. 

"Anyway," Buffy said. She had told him to let her talk but since when had he listened to her? It was disconcerting to see him this quiet. "But you were there when we needed you and even though I didn't see you as a friend then, you were somebody I could count on. Obviously, since I had my mom and little sister set up shop with you. It was so weird then. I knew I shouldn't trust you. And I didn't." She paused, biting her lower lips as she wrestled to make sense of the contradiction. _Why is it that everything having to do with Spike is a contradiction? _She sighed, unable to put it into words any more eloquently than, "but I did. Trust you." She lowered her eyes from his sculpted cheeks and busied herself by tracing her fingers over his knuckles.

Spike watched his slayer's…no, _the_ slayer's, fingers glide across his skin. Even his despondent frame of mind couldn't ignore the warmth that coursed through him at her slightest touch. He had been dead for two lifetimes and in two years; this beautiful woman beside him had all but caused his heart to beat. He thanked Drusilla inwardly. If it weren't for her immortal kiss, he would have never had the chance to truly feel as alive as he did now. 

He inhaled deeply, the effervescent scent of Buffy enrapturing his heightened senses. She was intoxicating, in every way. He couldn't imagine life-or unlife-without her. There would be nothing left for him to do in this world but to whither away, returning to the earth he should have been interred in for the last eighty years. 

Spike reached out instinctively, delicately brushing a stray lock from Buffy's forehead and tucking it behind her ear. The intimacy was not lost on either one of them and then tension between the two lovers rose tenfold. 

Buffy was the first to recover. "Ummm…" albeit not much of a recovery. _Don't think about the beautiful, sexy eyes of vampire, _she coached herself. She had to finish what she was saying and the start of another snogging session with Spike wouldn't be kosher right now. 

"Spike," she said, giving his hand what she was hoping was a reassuring squeeze. His features practically fell from his face. 

"Oh, right. Sorry, slayer," he apologized. Buffy couldn't help but wince at the emotional void of his voice. 

"Promise me something?"

"Seems promises are the only thing I'm good for," he said without malice. Buffy chose to ignore it and waited for him, determination creeping into the green mirrors of her eyes. "I promise," he finally answered. 

"Don't make anymore assumptions until you finish hearing what I have to say." She waited until he gave her a curt nod. "Why is it so difficult?"

"What?" he asked, intrigued. 

"Everything. You, my friends, being the slayer. This whole damn world." She couldn't hold back the tears that slowly leaked from her eyes. She didn't care about being strong as long as she said her peace. 

"Luv," Spike soothed, his hand automatically reaching out to her. He stopped before his thumb reached her cheek, quickly propping his head up by the offending hand. "Buffy, everything about this world is hard. That's not gonna change."

"I know that…it was just so much easier when…"

"When what?" he couldn't keep the rising heat from his voice. If she was heading where he thought she was…

"When it was just black and white. When demons were all soulless monsters…" He snorted, interrupting her. 

"Oh, you mean when you didn't have to make the tough decisions? When everything just fell neatly into place? News flash, pet: it doesn't work like that. Shit gets hard and you have to make…" his voice faltered momentarily before he continued, "you have to make decisions that are best for you and your lot. That's all you can ask of yourself, luv."

Buffy took in his words. He was right. All she could ask of herself was to make the best decision she could with whatever information she had. The only question was how did she make those decisions. Did she use her head or her heart? 

Suddenly, Buffy didn't want to continue the conversation. There was still so much she hadn't said but it was all too difficult to get out. 

"We better get home," she said, getting off the bed, searching for her clothes. If it had been any other time, the mere thought of Buffy's tan flesh highlighted by candlelight would have been sufficient to engorge him with desire. As it was, he only rolled his eyes in disgust unaware of the derisive snort that ushered from him throat. 

Buffy heard Spike's dissatisfaction and mentally chided herself. _Great job, Buffy. At least you're sticking to your forte. When the goin' gets tough, Buffy gets goin'. _She angrily hoisted up her pants after getting a new pair of panties from her black bag. 

By the time she had slid her thin arms through her jacket, Spike was already outside. Thin wisps of smoke floated through the open door of the crypt along with the pungent odor of tobacco. She walked out and saw Spike leaning against the cool wall of the crypt. He was going for casual but she had been around him enough to read his body language. And now it was telling her that it was riddled with tension. He was like a rubber band stretched to its capacity. Either you had to let it go or it was going to pop you. Of course, rubber bands didn't have teeth. Or a demonic temper. 

When Buffy came into his peripheral view, the blond vampire took one more puff and tossed the fag away, extinguishing it with a turn of his heel. He stalked off with his usual cockiness though he felt anything but. 

To her credit, Buffy felt more than her share of guilt. She had wanted to tell him so much but as usual, she hid behind her insecurities. _What insecurities should you have with Spike? _Rational Buffy asked incredulously. 

__

Hello, he's male. Prude Buffy retorted. 

_The same male that loved you unconditionally. Even when you were dead_ Carefree Buffy reminded.

But he's a vampire. A soulless monster, prude Buffy pleaded.

_The same vampire that maintained his promise to protect your sister and is also her best friend. And would do anything for her…_

But he's a vampire. He doesn't have a soul, prude Buffy pled without conviction. 

_And despite that, he has loved you purer than any other man you have known…_

The last thought hung in the air as Buffy scurried to catch up with Spike's long strides. Oblivious to her internal turmoil, Spike sauntered through the graveyard wishing…

Wishing that he had never come to Sunnydale. 

Wishing that he had never come **back **to Sunnydale. 

Wishing that the sodding chip was never put into his head. 

Wishing Buffy had staked him in her various opportunities.

Wishing he had never fallen in love with the slayer.

Wishing that she had never kissed him. Maybe then his sick fascination with her would have slowly dissipated without the heat of her lips re-igniting his internal flame of love for her. 

Wishing that she hadn't have come back wrong. 

Wishing the stupid gits earlier hadn't missed. If the wood had only entered him a few inches to the left… 

So caught up in his thoughts, Spike was unaware of the fidgeting slayer walking next to him. Only when the warmth of her hand wrapped around his cold fingers was he lifted from his brooding. He stopped in his tracks, running the free hand through his tousledlocks. Though he was hesitant to do so, Spike's gaze finally drifted over to the angelic face of the slayer. And that was all it took to let him know that every sacrifice, every painful lurch in his stomach, was worth it. And if he died right then and there, he would die a content man. 

Buffy was not oblivious to the façade of the blond vampire crumbling from a resigned despair to unbridled love. It was enough to make her cry again but she stilled her undulating emotions. 

_You've cried your quota for the next six months, Buff, _she warned herself. She hesitantly looked up at the blue orbs that stared back at her, expectantly. _Wouldn't be surprised if he were reading my mind right now. _However his gaze unnerved her, it gave her a bit of confidence. _Don't think, just act. _And with that, Buffy kissed him. 

Shocked by her actions, Spike stood incredibly still. _Guess this is the goodbye kiss, mate. Might as well enjoy it. _Several seconds later, his body consented to his final thoughts and his tongue danced with hers ever so slowly. It was like before, when they had made love in the forest. The same burning tenderness that had given him a sliver of hope that she just might want him. But that hope was as scant as a fleck of meat was to a starving man. The hunger became even more pronounced after the taste and only complete satiation would obliterate the emptiness. 

His free hand caressed her curved hips as hers did the same. She maintained a vicious hold onto his other hand as they explored one another's clothed forms as best they could. The heat between them was rising as Buffy moaned into his mouth. Seconds later, she broke the kiss, despite vehement protestations by her flesh. 

"Spike," she started but stopped, covering her mouth with her free hand. Spike rolled his eyes and made to get away but was pulled back sharply by the slayer. 

"Hey! You can dislocate a bloke's arm that way, luv," he said, needlessly massaging his shoulder. 

"I need to tell you…"

"Tell me what? Tell me that it was fun while it lasted but it's time for me to get out into the real world? You've had your fill of me; I've scratched those itches of yours enough to last a bloody lifetime. What? My 'convenience' you were so kind to point out is too much trouble?"

"Damn you, Spike," she said, anger simmering within her. She balled her fist up though, still held onto his hand with the other one.

Spike saw the fist and smirked. "What? I say something you don't wanna hear and you take your jollies on pounding good ol' reliable Spike into the ground? Go ahead," he lifted his chin. "And don't forget to tell me how you'll never be my girl because I'm a soulless monster who can't love you. Who's disgusting and evil," Spike couldn't hide the hurt behind his words and Buffy heard them loud and clear. And for once, her anger was completely abated without violence. 

Spike watched as Buffy's face melted from seething anger to…compassion? Empathy? Remorse? Pity?!

At the thought of pity, Spike grunted his disgust before continuing. "Oh, what? Feeling sorry for the Big Bad, luv? Well, don't. I'm a monster, remember? If this bloody chip ever came out, I'd tear the sodding Scoobies apart," his eyes drifted to the sky in contemplation. "And you know, I'd think I start with the bit. She's all trusting. Could bring her back to the crypt, show her firsthand how I got the name Spike," he shouted. He hid any indications of self-disgust at even the thought of hurting Dawn. He'd drink a fifth of holy water before he ever harmed a hair on her head. And from the look on her face, Buffy wasn't buying it either. 

"Thank you." She said simply. His eyebrows furrowed at the sincerity of her words, in spite of what he had just said. 

"Thank you? For what?"

"For everything. For being there for Dawn this summer. For helping the gang out, saving their lives. For…" her eyes retreated to the now interesting ground. _Again, coward Buffy to the rescue. _

Spike kept silent, hovering on her every syllable. Something told him that this was important but as she looked away, the old resentment threatened to consume him once again. _She doesn't need that. All you'll do is put her on the defensive, mate. What she needs is encouragement. _And with that, Spike gently squeezed Buffy's hand. 

She immediately looked up at her lover, unexpectedly. The tug of his fingers against hers had prevented her walls from tethering themselves around her emotions. Butterflies began their familiar migrations in the pit of her stomach as the warmth of his smile enveloped her. Buffy's heart entered a sprint of its own volition and her breaths came in ragged gasps before she willed herself to be calm. She closed her eyes, fear welling up in every pore with only the cool anchor that was Spike's hand preventing her from bolting out into the night like she had so many other nights with him. 

"I wanted to thank you for…for being my friend." She had said the words without thinking and before he could react, she hugged him. No kisses were exchanged yet everything she could have said with her lips was spoken through her body as she wrapped her arms around Spike's slim waist. 

The vampire was in more than shock. She had never hugged him like this before. In fact, earlier tonight had been the only time he could remember her hugging him. Dawn was the only one that did it regularly. Suffice to say the vampire was not quite experienced in the art of a loving embrace such as this. He slung an arm awkwardly around her shoulders, drawing in her scent with every unneeded breath he took. He was lost in the vanilla fragrance of her when she pulled away. He wanted to protest at the lack of contact, until her hand once again found his. This time, she intertwined her fingers between his. Then smiled shyly. 

"I should have done that a long time ago. I'm sorry it took me so long to show my gratitude," she said sheepishly.

"No worries, luv. 'Twas worth the wait." They stood in a slightly uncomfortable silence before Spike recommended they continue their journey back to Revello Drive. He was pleasantly surprised at Buffy's silent insistence to hold his hand on the way and he couldn't help but smile. 

_Don't get your hopes up, mate. You know it's over after this anyway. She's gonna have a kid by the poof. So what hope is there of you except to play the surrogate big brother again?_

It wasn't until they were halfway there that Buffy had worked up the courage to finish what she had wanted to say earlier. 

"I also wanted to tell you," she said without breaking stride or taking her eyes off the road in front of her, " that I'm glad."

"Glad for what, luv?" Spike asked, trying to keep the same indifference as her. 

"Glad that you love me," she cast a hesitant smile in his direction and was almost blinded by the luminescence of his smile. He quickly shifted into his usual smirk though he couldn't hide the faint glow that permeated from his body. Buffy knew that it wasn't going to be enough in the long run but it was a start. _Baby steps, Buffy, baby steps, _she comforted herself, happy that she had made the vampire's day. 

All his bravado had come crashing down with Buffy's last words. Spike knew that it was a long way from professing her undying love…still. Maybe there was a chance for them after all. 

The vampire didn't try to curb his new surge of hope. He just let it ride as they walked the rest of the way in a decidedly comfortable silence. 

***Sorry it took so long, but I had a lot to say. Buffy just seems to skate around the issue at every opportunity, doesn't she? Well, maybe one day, everything will get set straight. 

***I have a wedding to go to Saturday and two nieces to take shopping Sunday but hopefully I can get the next chapter done Saturday night. But no promises though. 

***Make sure to read and review. Constructive criticism is also welcome. It'll only help me get better. Or questions you have, ask away. I'll try my best to answer them without giving away anything. 

***As I said before, next chapter _Then & Now, _will be similar to some chapters with Faith that transitioned between the present and future. 

***After that, Willow and Tara get to _The Truth of the Matter _from Faith. 

***Did I tell you how much I looooove reviews???


	20. Then & Now

***Again, sorry bout the lateness but had to take the nieces shopping Sunday. Well, everybody's favorite bad guy gets the 'Fool for Love' treatment. This won't answer all your questions but it will answer a lot of them, while leaving you with even more questions …hehehe…

CHAPTER 20

The two figures that remained standing watched the scene before them. Their un-dead comrade knelt in between them; his gaze fixated on the thoroughly confused brunette still hunched against the bookcase. Though it was obvious that something had passed between the two crouched figures, Jennifer couldn't quite put her finger on what was going on. He had gone from sociopath to doting lover in the span of ten minutes to a girl who had almost seared a good portion of his arm away from his body. Truth be told, however, she was more interested in Dawn than Seth's emotional issues. Her thin eyebrows crinkled as she contemplated what type of power this girl possessed. 

It was a given that as the Key, she could open up doors to all realms of existence and anti-existence alike. It was unknown, however what, if any, other abilities she possessed. Though the latter was insignificant as far as the First was concerned, still, it could prove useful. 

Unaware of the dark woman's internal designs, Seth stared at the young teen with an almost fanatical incredulity. He had dropped to all fours and his breath came in jagged rasps. Were he human, he would have hyperventilated but as it was, he only gaped at the impossible. 

"You…can't…be…" he whispered. His mind reeled as memories of days' past/future clawed for dominance with his visions of now…

_The first time he had seen her, Seth had been enamored. The black ankle-length dress clung to her lithe yet powerful form. She moved with a preternatural grace that put the man in mind of predatory vampire. But he had been around enough vampires to know that her movements contained a life about them that a vampire could never possess. It hadn't been years of perfecting her technique that gave her such a distinctive gait. Somehow he knew it was something that came as natural to her as breathing._

This had been the fourth time in as many nights he had seen her and now, just like the other times, she was alone. That in itself was unusual considering the less than savory characters, like him, that prowled the city streets. 

'Maybe I should follow her,' he said to no one in particular, 'make sure she's okay'. If he would have actually dwelled on his thoughts, Seth would have been more than amused. If she was okay now, once he got her alone, she would be anything but. 

So he followed her through the night, unnoticed, or so he thought. This had been the fourth night this place had called to her. Emerald had never questioned her instincts, lest they lose their razor's edge. They had always been true to her. In fact, without them, she never would have run into the arms of Gabriel. She smiled at the vision of her dark warrior, his face that of a familiar champion though his eyes were all his own. 

'But I'm not here for him,' she reminded herself. 'I'm here for…' she paused. Truth be told, she didn't know why she was here. Only that she'd be foolhardy to ignore its magnetic pull. 'Focus, Emerald, focus.' She closed her eyes, stopping in the midst of a particularly vile throng of street denizens. 

"Lookie what we have here, fellas," an especially bold thug called and Emerald felt his disgusting ardor as he circled her still form. The tendrils of his lecherous gaze over her curves would have been more than enough for her to dispose of him but something held her back. Her mind was telling her that it was best to play the damsel…

"Please, I don't want any trouble," she bade in her most helpless voice. She knew he was there. She had felt his presence, following her like some obedient collie for the last ten minutes. He'd come to the rescue, though she truly didn't know who **he **was. 

"Well, if you didn't want trouble, Princess, you wouldn't be walking around here by yourself dressed in such…risqué attire." The thug's dirty hand caressed the side of Emerald's hip, grabbing her ass roughly. It didn't take much for the human part of her to cringe at the violation, though it was a struggle to keep her decidedly less human half from lambasting this man where he stood. 

"Please stop," she pushed at his chest meekly. 'Hurry up, my champion,' she thought, 'whom ever you may be.' The thug's advances had drawn several other shady men into her personal space. She counted six as different sets of hands clawed and groped her, threatening to tear her silk dress from her body. With a practiced concentration, she brought forth the sixteen-year-old part of herself that she had kept dormant for so long. 

"Help!" she screamed several times before a crusted hand covered her mouth. Seconds later, her feet no longer touched the ground as the group of would-be rapists carted her into a back alley, all the while people watched, intent on staying out of it. All but one. 

Seth had seen that Victor had been the first to approach her. It had only taken a moment before his lackeys had joined in on the fun. Before he knew it, they had hoisted her between them and headed for a back alley. Seth was torn as to what to do. On the one hand, he was no better than Victor and his cohorts and would have probably done the same thing to her, given half a chance. And for some reason, he had thought the woman would take care of the situation herself. 

'And how might that be, you fuckin' moron?' he chided himself. 'With her super powers?' He shook his head in disgust and made his way to the alley…

"Seth." The call of his name wrenched the vampire from future memories. He craned his neck up, his glassy eyes coming to rest on Jennifer's exotic face. He shivered as her obsidian eyes peered into him, poking and prodding his most intimate secrets and desires. Her nose scrunched, in frustration and Seth knew that even she couldn't penetrate the cloud that left his mind in a haze…

_Seth had taken out the first three members easily enough. He snapped the closest one's neck before the others were aware of his presence. The second and third men were invariably introduced to the sharpened tire iron Seth carried on him at all times. _

"Sorry fellas," he said eyeing the remaining quartet circling him. He risked a quick peek at the woman. She pressed the tattered remains of her once elegant dress protectively across her chest. Her raven hair hid her features but the would-be rescuer had the distinct feeling that she was fine. 

"What tha fuck are you doin, Seth," the ringleader seethed. 

"Well, Vickie-boy, just thought I'd save a damsel in obvious distress. You know the deal. Do a good deed, get rewarded. Yada, yada, yada."

The larger man sneered at him. "You? Do a good deed? Don't make me laugh You're no better than us and you know it!"

"Yeah, guess I got the Han Solo complex," he shrugged. 

"Who?" The man replied, obviously miffed. 

Seth rolled his eyes incredulously. "Jumpin' Je-**sus** man. Guess you don't keep up with the classics, huh?" Seth smirked before making his move. 

A quick feint towards the leader gave the two men behind him a chance to attack. Of course, that was what he had planned. He decapitated the first one instantly, whirling around at an almost inhuman speed. He continued to a second revolution, this time bringing his heel cracking loudly against the temple of the second man who fell lifelessly to the floor. But in his arrogance, Seth had failed to realize the gun a third member trained on him. Only a slight jerk in Victor's direction saved his life. Instead of piercing his heart, the metal slug tore through his back, shattering bone and tissue before exploding out of his chest, destroying his right lung. 

Before falling to his knees, he instinctively whirled, hurling his weapon at his would-be murderer. The projectile flew home in the middle of the man's chest, impaling him through the heart. Six down…

Seth's pain was doubled when a steel-toed boot smashed into his healthy left side. He grunted as he felt more bones snap. He went to look up but a fast moving heel acquainted itself with his face, careening him back against the soot and grime of the alley. His eyes fluttered as he saw Victor standing over him, a large metal drum hoisted above his head, ready to deliver the final blow…

Seth jerked back as he realized where he was. He hadn't been aware of crawling towards Dawn's huddled figure, but here he was, not three feet from her. His abrupt reaction placed him on his butt. His hands held him up as his eyes raked over the terrified face before him. How didn't he see it before? She was exactly the same, aside from a few aesthetic differences…

_Just as the blinding pain had ushered Seth into oblivion, so to it delivered him from unconsciousness. Aside from the pain, the brilliant green light that thrummed before his eyes alerted him that he was still, in fact, alive. His hand instinctively reached for the burning hole in his chest…though he immediately found that movement was not an option. Not due to the pain, but for some unseen force holding him in place. He had been around unnatural phenomenon enough to discern magic from higher forms of mysticism. This was definitely not magic. _

"What…what is happening?" He forced out and immediately regretted it. The blood poured from his mouth and Seth resigned himself to the fact that, though he was alive at the moment, death was not too far off. 

A scream pierced his ears and it wasn't until he felt the tearing at his throat that he realized it was his own. Somehow, the pain in his chest had more than quadrupled in intensity. Bones shifted and tendons realigned as his neck thrashed from side to side, helplessly. Just as quickly as it had arrived, however, it subsided, to be replaced by an almost welcoming ache. The tension from his limbs dissipated and he felt his motor control return. The brilliant green light that had enveloped his vision was now just a faint outline. An outline that was shaped, oddly enough, like that of a woman…

"Do not try to move," a thick, melodious voice advised. Though he was never one to comply with orders (or suggestions for that matter), Seth acquiesced to the advice.

"What did you do to me?" he asked, genuinely interested. 

"I healed you," she stated simply. Seth craned his neck to take in his savior and was speechless.

Though he had seen her each of the last four nights, never had he never actually 'seen' her face. Her bronze complexion hinted at an ethnic heritage though her features denied that. Her face was slightly ovalish, devoid of harsh angles. A rounded nose that complimented the softness of her cheeks was centered between evenly spaced eyes. Her pencil thin eyebrows were scrunched in concern as she brushed her hand gently against his forehead. Her dark hair lay effortlessly against her shoulders, a shroud of solitude. It wasn't until he absorbed it all that he took another look at her eyes. 

Even more so than her hair, her eyes were darker than night. There was an obsidian quality to them, as they reflected your worst fears though still sucking you into them completely. He shivered at the totality of them. Save for a tinge of green around the edges, they were devoid of even the whites. 

"Don't worry," she smiled sincerely, "they only look like this when I use my power." 

_"Your power, huh?" She nodded. Seth couldn't help but smile despite his realization. "So, this whole 'damsel in distress' deal, that almost got me killed nonetheless, was just a ploy to get my attention?" Her smile affirmed his theory. "You like taking chances, don't you?" He said in amused disbelief at this woman's audacity._

"How so?" 

"You know that big brute that introduced his steel toes to my ribs?" he asked, touching the still aching ribs for effect. He wanted to ask what had happened to Victor but knew that if she could heal him of mortal injuries-well, one thug would be a walk in the park. 

"He was right when he said I'm no better than he was. I was watching you. Well, of course you knew that but…shit, I was thinkin' bout taking you in several similar ways that these pricks were." He was flabbergasted at his honesty. 'Yeah, that's the spirit, Seth. Tell they woman you were thinking about screwin' her six ways from Sunday, against her will, mind you and she'll melt helplessly into your arms. Well, after makes with the flambé.'

The woman tilted her head slightly, judging the man before her. After a few moments, she simply stated, "But you wouldn't have."

Dumfounded by her response, Seth propped himself up on his elbows. He studied her, not caring his puzzlement showed clearly on his face. An inordinate amount of questions circled the haze of his mind though in the end he settled for two words. 

"How so?" The street pro was thunderstruck beyond comprehension when her soft hand rested gently against the sharp angle of his jaw. She pulled him toward her and Seth did not have the faculties to resist. Closing the distance, her soft, supple lips brushed gently against his. Seth mechanically parted his lips when he felt her tongue probing for its mate. He obliged her and their kiss depended into a passionate reunion like that of lovers reunited. 

Much to his chagrin, the woman broke first and he begrudgingly leaned his head back. He narrowed his eyes at her only to find her smirking at him with a most satisfactory look. 

"You love me too much to hurt me…"

Seth shook his head defiantly, crushing his hands against his head, attempting to force the flood of memories back behind their doors. He knew all eyes were on him yet he didn't care. All he wanted was to forget. Forget her. Forget everything. 

Dawn watched the vampire in front of her apprehensively. The turmoil that her presence caused was visible on his twisted features. She observed him for several moments, his face contorting from his human mask to an unusually hideous demonic visage, though the latter never lasted longer than the blink of an eye. Slowly, she slid up the bookcase to her feet, taking in everything around her. There was only one way out and the magic guy Willow had gone to- Rack was his name- guarded it. A few feet from her stood the willowy form of Ms. Calendar. Or her long lost identical twin. She was studying the vampire with an amusing fascination that was unnerving. The teen inched herself along the bookcase determined to get out of everyone's clear line of view. But before she could move too far, cold hands gripped her shoulders and she screamed. 

"Emerald," Seth said in a halfway pleading voice. His eyes were wide as they begged for recognition on her part. The rational side of him, however, knew that even if this was her, they were still thirty some odd years away from meeting. Still, the other, more irrational side of things raged for her to know him, to know what they shared…

_"Emerald!" he screamed as her body danced languidly on top of him. Seth's breathing came in ragged gasps as he desperately attempted to regain his composure from their night of passion. _

She rested her cheek against his heaving chest; tendrils of her hair teased his more than sensitive skin. 

"That tickles," he chuckled as he ran his thin fingers through her thick mane. It had been a fabulous three months for them. Ever since the fiasco in the alley, they had rarely left one another's side. They stayed at her mansion in the hills, away from any and everything. The content that radiated through Seth in her presence was enough to temper even his basest urges. His mantra of 'Want. Take. Have' was forgotten, replaced by his affection for this dark beauty in his arms. 

_"Well," she said breathlessly, returning him from his thoughts, "you sure have a knack for the 'tickling' thingy too."_

"Oh, so I tickle you? Is that what you're saying?" He jabbed two fingers into her ribs and she giggled hysterically. He was always amazed her the mirth she exuded through her joyful laughs. It was so unlike her usual demeanor, bringing a warmth to him he had not felt in his twenty-seven years. As the tumbled across her mammoth bed, Seth finally gaining the upper hand, his chocolate eyes stared at her intently. The rise of her chest crushed her breasts against his; the raspberry scent of her filled his nostrils while her effervescent beauty nearly choked him to tears. She smiled at him sweetly, her perfect lips slightly parted, waiting for the desire that was in their every kiss. In that one moment, Seth knew…

"You know I love you, don't you?" His blue eyes bore into Dawn, searching for the truth. The brunette was even more terrified by this behavior than his earlier menacing. Tears began pouring from her eyes anew, as she continually whispered the names of her strongest protectors. 

"Seth," the soothing voice of Jennifer beckoned behind him, her hand lightly resting on his taut shoulders. Her mind chanted long forgotten words to his confused essence and visibly relaxed, his hands falling reluctantly from the young girl's shoulders. His head slumped as he turned towards her and Jennifer saw the confusion and dejection in his eyes. He was not the only one perplexed by this as her mind raced for an explanation though her outer appearance was that of perfect calmness. She held her hand out and he hesitantly grasped it, his coolness in direct contrast with her unnatural warmth. He allowed her to lead him to the couch, a dazed expression over his face. 

"Looks like somebody had an unexpected reunion," Rack mused. The lack of response from the now seated Seth gave the black magic's man confidence that the vampire wasn't so invincible after all. 

"Seth, look at me," Jennifer demanded. Slowly he turned his head to face the mysterious woman and took her in. Her voice was always soothing (and strangely familiar) while her hair and her eyes…her eyes…

__

Her obsidian eyes gazed at him; partially happy to hear his words though the other part of her wallowed in despair, as she knew how little time they had left together. 

"I know," she said, her eyes focusing on his chest. Anything but his eyes. She felt his thumb brush against her cheek and Emerald realized that she was crying. 

"What's wrong, luv?" he asked. It had been five months since he had first said he loved her, the first person he had ever told that to. The shock and surprise on her face that first time was something he'd never forget. But the last few weeks, every time he had said it, she would cry, never returning the sentiment like she usually did. 

Her smile was bittersweet: that she knew but she was comforted by his smirk. She traced his jaw line lightly, still amazed at their sharp angles. Her hands caressed his brows, one fingertip resting upon the scar above his left eye. She had done that to him a few months ago during one of their more 'urgent' sessions of passions. Though she had denied it at first, a part of her knew she had purposely done it, though for what reasons, she could not guess. It was the same reason she had asked him to dye his hair blond. He had been more than willing to change for her. Both modifications had made her feel safer than she ever would be with Gabriel. Would he be able to accept what was bound to happen? They had less than a month together before she had to return. She couldn't bring herself to leave him to the streets, knowing that one day even his tenacity wouldn't be enough. She had a plan and though it pained her to do it, at least she would be comfortable in the knowledge that he would live forever.

"What are you thinking?" he asked her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. Emerald felt so warm inside as his chocolate eyes bore into her. If only they weren't so warm…if only they were cold and hard, it'd be so much easier. 

"Nothing…well, I love your eyes, you know that, don't you?" He nodded sheepishly and she couldn't help but laugh at the reserves this brazen man displayed when he was complimented. "I was just wondering," she traced the dark stubble growing from his chin, "if you'd do something for me…"

"There is nothing that I wouldn't do for you, Emerald. Nothing." 

She smiled, always touched at the sincerity of his words. He was never one to sugarcoat anything and it was a comforting reminder of someone she hadn't seen in two years…

"I've always wondered what you'd look like with blue eyes." Seth's head leaned back to take her in. There was something about the way she said it that he didn't like though he couldn't quite pinpoint his concern. She looked at him for permission and despite reservations, he nodded his assent. 

Seth watched amazed as her dark pupils bled over the rest of her eyes until there wasn't a trace of white. Her body shimmered as the soft greenish glow returned, bathing her body in light and unnatural warmth. She pressed her palm over his eyes and Seth felt panic rise as his sockets began to burn. But as soon as the burning sensation appeared, it was gone. The pressure of her hand against his face was gone and Seth opened his eyes, tentatively. As his vision came into focus, the last embers of her emerald luster was fading to be replaced by her natural state of beauty. Seth bit his lip at the softness of her flesh and love she showed for him. And in that instant, he knew that his heart would forever belong to her and woe the man that would threaten their love…

"Bastard," Seth spat, his memories finally linking past, present and future together as one. Though he had been more than angered at the discovery that Emerald's insistence of aesthetic alterations were based upon some vampire whose name the frightened teenager kept whispering, he had forgiven her immediately. However, whatever the block that was in his mind was now released at the sight of her and the promise he had made to himself was realized. 

Seth was faintly aware of Jennifer's warm hands stroking the back of his neck as his mind was on other things. As a man, he never let someone who wronged him, regardless of their intentions, get away unscathed. Being a vampire only heightened his desire for retribution. His demon raged eager to bestow punishment on the guilty party. His human side reminded him that he owed said party everything that he was. But the wrath of his demon clouded that, focusing on the one thing he didn't have because of said party: Emerald.

'Oh, I will have my revenge, now that I know the truth,' he thought sadistically. Forgiveness was not an option between vampires. 

Sire or no, Gabriel would pay. 

***I hope this gives you a better idea of the relationship between Emerald/Dawn and Seth, though there is still much to come. 

***I'll be starting on the next chapter later tonight and should have it posted tomorrow night. 

***So, tell me what you think. Reviews are a must ya know…8-) 


	21. The Truth of the Matter

***We finally get to the truth of the matter. The origin of Seth and Gabriel are explained as well as the Prophecy concerning Faith…

CHAPTER 21

It took the better part of two hours before Faith had calmed down enough to talk. Somehow, between her gut-wrenching sobs and childlike whimpers, Willow and Tara had ushered the young woman to the couch where she rested between them, alternating between leaning against Tara's shoulder and on Willow's lap. 

The past fifteen minutes had been filled with Faith's last gasps of tears. Though her sobs had dissipated, she was still too upset to do any talking. So she remained quiet while Tara softly stroked her hair and Willow held her hands. Faith was glad to have these two women here with her. They were always there for her when she needed to get away when Buffy and Spike engaged in particularly heated arguments. It always scared her that they would hurt each other or break up, leaving her alone….

_"They're gonna leave me," the seven year old cried into the blonde's comforting arms. _

"Faith, baby, they're not gonna leave," Tara comforted. She looked up at Willow who entered the room carrying a tray with three mugs of cocoa perfectly balanced on top. Willow set the trays down and joined her lover in consoling the distraught girl. 

"Buffy and Spike love each other, sweetie," Willow cooed, scrunching Faith between her and Tara in a soothing embrace. Though Spike and Buffy often bickered, they rarely fought. But when they did it was with the same fervor they imbued as mortal enemies, neither giving nor asking for quarter. And though physical confrontations were a thing of the distant past, their words often cut far deeper. 

"But last time they fought, Mommy left for a long time…" she argued. 

"Sweetie," Tara said, running her hand against the girl's wet cheek, "that wasn't why your mommy left. She had to go on a quest, to find something. And she was only gone a week."

"They are…they…a..are yelling at each…other," she managed between heaves. 

Willow bent down and turned Faith towards her. The little girl's hair was tied in a loose ponytail, several of her bangs strewn across her tear-stained face. The redhead affectionately brushed a thick strand of strawberry blond hair out of the girl's eye, tucking it behind her ear. 

"Faith," she began, her small hands holding the smaller hands of her god-daughter/pseudo niece between them, "everybody fights. Your mommy and daddy both love each but sometimes people have disagreements." She paused, glancing lovingly at Tara who smiled back. "I mean, even Tara and I have our little Wicca quarrels here and there."

The little girl lowered her eyes and spoke, her voice filled with sadness, "But you guys don't yell like they do." The two older women smiled ruefully at each other. In their longstanding friendship with the vampire and his slayer, they had been privy to lovers' quarrels of epic proportions. The two lovers were hurricane and tsunami; their mutual stubbornness only prolonged the sometime all-nighters. Their fights, like most couples, were started over the most trivial things. But that didn't matter. They were both always right and even when facts determined otherwise, they held on to their opinion with the iron grip of a drowning man reaching for a buoy. 

"I know, sweetie," Tara chimed in, mirroring her lover by kneeling in front of the little girl. "But me and Auntie Willow are a lot more…"

"Sane?" the girl muttered under her breath and both witches had to stifle a giggle. 

"No, honey. I was about to say easy going. As Wiccas, we…we…" the blond fumbled for the right words.

"We have to make sure we are in control of our feelings and emotions more than most people," Willow made the save. 

Tara smiled at her briefly before continuing where her lover of more than three decades left off, "Because magic is so tied into emotions, you have to stay in control all the time. Your mommy and daddy are more…emotional. And sometimes they may act on their feelings before they think about it."

"Why?" the girl asked, looking up for the first time. She wiped her eyes roughly with her palm and both Wiccas stared at the bright beautiful eyes of the littlest Summers. They were an eclectic swirl of blue and green, filled with wonder, and at the moment, a look only the pain of two parents fighting could imbue.

"Well, you know how they have to fight the bad monsters so you can go to sleep every night?" Faith nodded. "Well, they have to be more vigilant…"

"Vigilant?" she asked.

"Alert, sweetie." Tara interceded. 

"Oh…" Faith said. "So that means they have to be more ready to fight. And they fight with their emotions?" The two witches nodded their assent. "So…are they gonna be like that all the time? I mean with the loud fighting?"

" 'Fraid so, kiddo," Willow replied, resting her hand gently against Faith's cheek. 

"Bloody hell," she muttered and slapped her hands over her mouth the instant she realized she said it out loud. Her eyes were almost as wide as the two pair gazing back at her. In her horror, Faith did not spot the twinkles of humor in their eyes. 

"Faith, honey…where did you hear that from?" Tara asked, trying her best to keep the mirth from her voice and failing miserably. 

"Daddy," Faith said, unaware of her aunts' dual amusement. 

"You know you shouldn't say things like that, sweetie," Willow informed her. Faith nodded her head sullenly. 

"I know. It's just that he says it all the time. 'Bloody' this and 'Bloody hell' that. Mommy always gets mad at him when he says it in front of me. I know he tries to be good about it but…" she paused, another look of horror plastered to her face. "Please don't tell Mommy I said that," she begged. "She'll get sooooo mad at him and then they'll start to argue again…" little tears started to gather at the bottom of her eyelids. The Wiccas were helpless against it and they knew it. 

"We won't tell her, baby." Tara cooed, brushing another bang out of the little girl's face. 

"Nope, we won't. Our lips are sealed," Willow said, closing an imaginary zipper across her lips. "Ms. Pottie mouth's secret is safe with us."

"Hey!" Faith exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips indignantly. So Buffy-esque. . 

"Hey yourself," Willow returned and shot her fingers out in search of the little girl's most ticklish spots. Soon, all three were lost in a tangle of fits and giggles on the floor. 

After a few minutes of stomach-cramping laughter, the trio settled down enough to speak. 

"Baby, I think it's time we got you back home before your parents start to worry," Faith began to speak but Willow shot her a warning glare, "and don't tell me that they know you came down here, either. You know they'll get upset."

Argument shot down before it reached the hanger. Willow was right. Although they lived only a few blocks away, she knew she'd be in trouble for leaving, even if it were the middle of the day. Dejected, Faith resorted to the truth. "But I don't wanna go back yet. I don't wanna hear them argue anymore…" 

"Oh, sweetie, you want us to go over there with you? Well, I guess we'd be taking you back anyway," She smiled. 

The frown on Faith disappeared as an idea came into her head. 

"You could teach me…" she said excitedly. 

"Teach you what?" Willow asked though she had a feeling where this was headed.

"Teach me to do magic." The two Wiccas glanced at each other, torn between their excitement at a potential pupil and facing the wrath of a slayer and her un-dead companion. 

Seeing their reservations, Faith tried a little tact. "It can be our secret," she said, almost sinisterly. "It can be something only the three of us can share…" **'Now, initiate doe eyes,**' she thought, releasing her secret weapon. 

It didn't take long before the two women conceded.

"Well," Tara said reluctantly, "maybe just one spell…"

"His name is Seth," Faith said, finally breaking the silence with something other than earth shattering sobs. "He…he is Gabriel's second in command. He's been that since he was turned ten years ago. Ten years my time." 

"So…so he's not that old," Tara said. "That's good, right?"

Faith laughed humorlessly. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you. But considering that he's kicked my ass on more than one occasion…and I'm a lot stronger than Buffy is…"

"What?" Willow asked, disbelief etched in her voice. "Stronger than Buffy?"

Faith smiled, only this time with a touch of humor. " And Spike too. He hated having two women stronger than him. We always teased him about who ran the pants in the house," Faith smiled wistfully before continuing. "By the time I was seventeen, I was not too far away from being able to take them both on. I mean, they'd always beat me but it was always because their technique was like decades ahead of mine-and I mean that literally. But as far as speed and strength, I pretty much hold those titles. Guess it's my mixture of slayer and master vampire DNA. I also heal faster, too. Usually," she whispered. 

"He…Seth did this to you?" Tara asked pointing to the scar down the side of her face. She nodded her assent and the blond Wicca reaffirmed her earlier unspoken pledge to see to it that Seth paid. 

"What is it about him that's so special?" Willow asked. 

Faith cringed noticeably at the thought of having to visualize the monster's face. A face that was uncomfortably familiar to someone she loved as much as anyone…

The two blondes had finally reached Revello Drive; their fingers laced together the whole way. Though they had refrained from speaking since Buffy's surprising confession, they traded affectionate glances the entire trip. 

Spike couldn't have been happier. _Unless she told me she loved me, _he thought wistfully. The vampire walked with one hand entangled with the slayer's while the other was buried deep inside the pocket of his duster. He knew he had to keep his cool, something his maniacal smile told him he wasn't succeeding in doing. 

_Snap out of it, you git. You know how fickle the slayer can be, _he admonished. And wasn't that the truth! One minute she would be in the throes of passion with him, whispering words in his ear that he was stunned she even knew existed. The next minute she'd curse him as a vile and disgusting creature. Though his smirk was plastered on to irritate her after one of her shame-felt tirades, her words burned more than he wished to admit. It wasn't that he thought she loved him, he knew better. He'd decided that after that first night that he'd relegate himself to taking any crumb he could get. He couldn't deny, however, that a part of him was ever the optimist and that the more she shared her body with him, the more she'd feel for him. He didn't know whether or not that was the reason for her admissions earlier, but he was damn sure not about to give up now. 

Buffy had to admit to herself that she hadn't felt this giddy since…well, since she had come back. The last six months had been a constant struggle. With her friends, with demons and with life in general. It didn't help that the arrival of Mr. Song & Dance and Spike's heartfelt confession. If it wasn't for that, she wondered if she would have ever kissed him. 

_It was only a matter of time, _she thought to herself and was surprised at her own self-candor. Spike had been the only one who had even an inkling of what she was going through. And the things that he didn't understand, he didn't try to, letting her be. They had spent countless nights together, in amiable silence, watching television or each other. The latter didn't happen often though but when it did, she felt no anxiety about those blue eyes piercing her, asking questions she didn't want to answer. In those moments, Spike never uttered a syllable, content to watch her and she was grateful for that. But the kiss had changed everything.

She sighed at the damage it had done to their relationship. Though she was loath to admit it at the time, they were friends. If she had only had more time to sort her feelings out, things might have been so much different. The hurdles of pain they still had to get past may never have been raised and they could have had a healthy relationship from the start. 

_As healthy as a vampire and a slayer could have, _she added. Buffy understood now that the past was just that, the past and if she ever wanted to have even the slightly semblance of a good (though decidedly not normal) life, she had to start living for today and tomorrow. If she thought of the past too much, or even too far into the future for that matter, well…she didn't know if she could deal. Even with Spike at her side. 

She stole a peak out the corner of her eye, feeling the vampire's leaden yet warm gaze upon her. How was it that he was still here? With all the things she had said and done, he refused to quit. _Don't think about the past Buffy, _she reminded herself. If she did think about all those terrible words and fists she hurled at him in the past few months…she had a feeling she knew a little more how Angel felt than she needed. 

She stifled a chill at the thought of her former vampire lover. _I'm gonna have a baby by Angel? _She thought unbelievingly. _I'm gonna have Angel's baby and Spike still ends up the one by my side? _The whole dynamic of the situation was mind bending. What was to happen between her and Spike that she ended up with her first love, even if it was for a night? And how was he able to forgive her for it? Or did he even know that it was Angel's?

Buffy's thoughts were cut off as her arm was jerked back. She stumbled back to Spike's side. She was on the verge of announcing her displeasure when he silenced her with the raise of his hand. He stayed unnaturally still for several moments before speaking. 

"Something's wrong," he said. Buffy rolled her eyes at him about to lash out about his jumpiness when she felt it…

"What…is…that?" She was taken aback by it. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. Whatever had left its…presence, was gone, yet its aura lingered. 

"Feels like a vampire," he said, reluctantly dropping her hand and creeping up the remaining hundred yards to her house. Buffy shook her head before following. They had stopped about a hundred feet away and from there they could see the front door closed…yet…

"Some baddie busted it down," he said, his voice tight. For whatever reason, his first thoughts had gone immediately to Dawn. It wasn't just her youth and inexperience he was worried about. It was like he knew…

"Dawn," Buffy said, voicing his own fearful thoughts. 

"Okay, this is how we're gonna do this, luv. I'll sidle through the back and you make your way up through the front. Either by the door or that window you so love climbing through." Despite the situation, she punched him in the shoulder. He returned it with a smirk and as he moved to make his way to the back Buffy found herself grabbing him by the lapels of his coat and crushing her mouth to his. Her tongue danced along his, tracing his blunt teeth as his lips moistened hers, their hands tracing the familiar curves of one another's body. Even in times of crisis, they always found solace in one another. At first it had been the mere presence of the other before a battle, whether it was in the beginning when they were mortal enemies, or later as comrades-in-arms. Since their relationship had been altered, however, the comfort of each other's arms was what they longed for. And in her mind, Buffy knew it was right. 

They only broke the kiss when Buffy gasped for air. No words were exchanged but the look that passed between them accurately transferred their thoughts of 'Be careful' to one another. And with that, the blond vampire disappeared into the shadows. 

She counted to three before she streaked across the lawn, staying close to the ground. Reaching the steps, Buffy peered through the windows as best she could, her slayer senses reaching out for anything out of the ordinary. Though they picked up nothing unusual, she knew that something had happened here. 

_And what is the likelihood that Dawn is involved? _She asked. She knew the question to that right away. 

_This **so **must be a Tuesday, _she said, shaking her head as she wrapped her small hand around the door handle…

Faith ran a shaking hand through her short hair. Her heart felt as if it was halfway up her throat and she had broken out into a cold sweat. If it wasn't for the support of Willow and Tara, the young slayer would have definitely succumb to the tears threatening to fall. As it was, she sat between the two women that, in another lifetime, were always there for her. 

_Some things never change…thankfully, _she thought to herself. She had given them the heads up on Seth and his master, Gabriel. Though she had outlined the prophecy of Gabriel and its relation to Spike and Buffy, she still kept the Master vampire's identity a secret. That and one other minute detail…

"Oh my God," Willow said, her voice weak and thick with tears. Neither her nor Tara had been able to keep their eyes dry as Faith laid it all on the table. How Seth was physically the most powerful demon in her world, despite being a vampire and only a decade out of the box, so to speak. Gabriel had imbued Seth with the gift. It was deemed the Gift because for whatever reason, Gabriel could sire only one vampire. And his child received the powers that the half-vampire (by birth) had accumulated through the years he had been trapped in some unknown hell dimension. A hell dimension that, for some reason, he was able to escape at Faith's conception. Thus, slayer and vampire/warlock (that was what Gabriel had now become) were inexorably linked, the prophecy declaring that it was Faith and Faith alone that had the power to defeat Gabriel. There was a minor problem with that, however. Though the prophecy stated that she was the only one that held the power to bring Gabriel down, two tasks that had to be completed first. For reasons that the young girl neglected to elaborate to the Wiccas, both Buffy and Spike had to die at the hands of one that loved them more than life and was bound to them by blood. It had been the reason Buffy had killed Spike, to weaken Gabriel's hold on the world. Buffy had then gone to Faith to finish the job. The younger slayer had struck her mother down but did not kill her. She had left Buffy, refusing to take her mother's life despite the hate she felt when she saw Buffy plunge the stake into Spike's heart. 

The second roadblock was that even if the slayer and vampire part of the prophecy was satisfied, there was still Seth to contend with. As mentioned before, he was peerless on the physical level. Not only was he faster and stronger than all demons, but he also was protected by a magic ward impenetrable by even the strongest of magics. That particular nuance was not confirmed though the second part of the prophecy did affirm that no one would be able to defeat the 'childe of Apocalypse's Harbinger.'

Willow rolled what parts of the prophecy Faith had been able to quote concerning Seth over in her mind…

**_The Harbinger's childe, cold and cruel_**

Invincible yet beaten.

Remade yet destroyed. 

The jewel within his heart 

The key to his salvation 

_He seeks yet unaware._

His longing for his jewel 

He as the tool of destruction

Burden bears….

Faith couldn't quite recall the rest of it, though she had relayed that the gist of the other part was that the only person that could destroy him was the power that created him. And it wasn't as if Gabriel would destroy the one thing that held him in power. 

The redhead sighed. She glanced over to Faith. Her head rested against Tara's shoulder, the Wicca's arm firmly around her shoulders while her hand absently stroked the woman's strawberry blond hair. She could see the fatigue around the girl's eyes. It had been a long day for Faith and her confrontation with Seth and subsequent confession to them had taken a vast toll on her. 

Willow shivered at the mere thought of what Faith had to endure during her nine months of captivity. She had been tortured almost daily and violated in so many other ways though Seth was the only one allowed to touch her. Willow didn't have to be told the things he did to her. The scars, both physical and emotional, were easy enough to see. How the girl was resilient enough to push it all aside was beyond her. _Guess she got the strength of Buffy and Ang…_

Willow stopped in mid-thought. Something didn't add up. Faith had said she was Buffy and Angel's child but…it just didn't _feel _like it. Though Willow hadn't practiced magic in over two months, she could still sense auras on people. And Faith's felt nothing like what she remembered of Angel. 

_Paranoid much? _A voice in her head sounded off. _You haven't seen him in what, eight months. And before that, how long? _The voice was right. Maybe the lack of 'Angel aura' emanating from the girl was because she had forgotten what his felt like. 

_But wouldn't that make it easier to detect? _She asked herself. _It would. And it's not like I don't feel anything, either. What I feel is totally familiar… I know Tara is better at this than I am but…_Willow closed her eyes and concentrated. She let flow the natural magic within her, one that didn't require supplies or incantations, one that wouldn't endanger her from falling into the darkness. 

The redhead willed the tiny probes that represented her own self to touch and prod lightly against that of Faith's. The energy bled off of her and though Faith was too out of it to notice, Tara picked up on the vibes immediately. 

"What are you doing?" She asked tersely, snapping Willow out of her probe. The non-practicing Wicca peered at the face of her once lover. The glare Tara gave her would have been enough to make Willow cringe at any other time but not this time. 

"Oh my God," she whispered, putting her hand to her mouth. Faith raised her head and glanced from Tara to Willow.

"What's going on?" she asked tiredly. 

"What is going on, Willow?" Tara demanded, anger rising in her voice. 

Willow stared in disbelief at the huddled form of Faith next to her. Things started to add up. The way Faith avoided Spike's gaze when talking about her father. The fact that she didn't actually say that Angel was her father, they had assumed. And Willow had dismissed the guilty look that haunted the girl's eyes during the pow-wow earlier. And then there were her eyes…an unusual mix of green and blue, the purest forms of each. Angel didn't have blue eyes…

"Angel…he's not your father, is he?" It was more of a statement than question. Willow leveled her eyes at the blue/green swirls of the Summers woman who sat up in alarm, her eyes widening. 

"W-what are you talking about, Willow?" Tara asked breathlessly after several more moments of silence. 

"She's not Buffy and Angel's child."

"T-that…ca-can't be. She looks just like Buffy. She…f-_feels _like her," Tara stammered as she pushed Faith away, trying to get a better look at her. 

"Oh, I didn't say she wasn't Buffy's daughter. She is," Willow continued. The confidence she felt was almost alien to her. She hadn't felt this sure of herself since before the whole Tabula Rasa spell had gone awry. And it wasn't because of her sucking the brain from a hell-god or speaking into the minds of her friends that was giving her this particular high. It was the knowledge that she had something in her powerful, yet good. It was just a matter of listening to that part of her and not overdoing everything…but that had to wait. There was a much more pressing matter that she had to get through. 

The mortified reaction of Faith only assured Willow even more that her hunch was true. She mentally cursed herself for not picking it up earlier. Faith had lied for whatever reason, and it was time that the truth came out.

"Faith is Buffy's daughter. I can feel it on her. But I don't feel any part of Angel."

"Bu-but the whole vampire thing. She said she…" Tara started but Willow interrupted.

"Oh, she's part vampire all right. Just not Angel's…"

"Then who…?" Tara asked before her widened eyes alerted Willow of that she, too, understood. 

"Yep, I can't believe I didn't feel it earlier."

"Feel what?" Faith croaked out. 

"Your father on you."

"Wha...what do you mean, my father? I already told you…" she managed weakly. 

"No, you never told us. We only _assumed_ that Angel was your father. You didn't actually say it. But it doesn't matter. What does matter is why you didn't tell us the truth?" 

"I did…" she tailed off. 

"C'mon, Faith. Spike is your father and you know it." The room was silent for a moment before a loud clang turned their three women's attention to the foyer. All three gasped at the shell-shocked form of Buffy, wavering back and forth, as if she would fall over any second. Her eyes were wide in disbelief and her lips were parted as if to speak though no words came. But the women on the couch didn't need words to know what she was thinking.

Buffy had heard every word.

***Uh Oh…business is about to pick up. The next two chapters will follow Buffy's reaction to this and Dawn's kidnapping in _Laying Blame…_Also Jennifer will reveal part of her plan to Seth. I'm not sure which one will come next. Well, if I get enough reviews and you tell me what you wanna see first, I might do that…

***Of course, I have to get reviews though…I love your support and excitement. I makes me want to hurry and finish the story. We still have a ways to go…hold on for the wild ride to come. 

***Well, no wedding this weekend so I _should _be able to post a chapter both Saturday and Sunday night, but don't hold me to that. Saturday, should be a definite, even if I have to stay up til 4 in the morning to finish it (I ve done that more than once on a weekend)

***Oh, and let me know how you liked baby Faith…I really like her and am thinking about doing a few more flashbacks with her.


	22. Laying Blame I

***One of my shorter chapters but I wanted to get at least some of it out. I may split it up into 3 parts. 

CHAPTER 22

The silence that descended throughout the room was tangible. It pressed down upon the shoulders of the four occupants with a dogged ferocity. It was almost as if it were a living, breathing entity, intent on sucking the very words from the lips of those who tried to speak. Buffy had been the first casualty, her lips forming words that did not materialize. Her hands rested limply at her sides and her shoulders wilted noticeably. It was by sheer will alone that she remained standing as her legs shook, threatening to betray her at any moment. All the while, her hazel eyes locked on the blue/green embers of her daughter. 

The women on the couch were just as shell-shocked as Buffy. Although Willow had been upset that Faith had kept hidden who her true father was from them all, she surmised that the young slayer had a reason for it. The redhead was intent on discovering said reasons when Buffy made her presence known.Faith was the first to speak. "Please don't tell him," she whimpered, her hands gripping the cotton of her sweats. Emerald had told her not to tell them the truth about Spike, for reasons she didn't have time to ask. The woman had stressed it as imperative that if all else failed and she were to tell someone, that it not be Spike. Again, Faith wasn't sure of the reasoning, just that she'd follow it. 

A light wind swept through the room and the three women on the couch whirled their heads around to the kitchen. Spike raced in, game face at the ready, as he surveyed the room with a snarl. 

"Where's Dawn?" He growled at the three women on the couch before his vision caught the stunned form of his slayer. He was by her side in the blink of an eye, his human visage now firmly in place as he grabbed Buffy by the shoulders. 

"Slayer," he said, concern filling his voice, "what's wrong? You're not gonna go all wonky on us again, are you?" He forced a semblance of levity in his tone that he was sorely lacking. 

Buffy managed to tear her gaze from Faith and fixed it on the blond standing in front of her. It took her a moment to focus in on his face and even when she did, everything still maintained the surrealism only living in Sunnydale could produce. Her gaze was drawn to the blue orbs that were, for all intents and purposes, the soul of this soulless monster-no, man-in front of her. Her glazed vision registered the wan smile formed by his bloodless lips. Buffy traced a thumb across his lower lip, amazed at the softness. She saw his eyes shutter closed for a second before he opened them. She vaguely recognized the feel of his lips moving beneath her fingertip. He was trying to say something…'damn?' 'Dawn?' And then it hit her.

"Dawn," she gasped, her chest constricting at the thought of her little sister taken from her again. 

"Sh-she was kidnapped," Tara stammered, rising out of her seat along with the other two women. She cautiously made her way over to the two blondes who stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. 

"Seth took her," it was Faith this time. She risked a furtive glance at Buffy, pleading for her silence. The blond narrowed her eyes before giving Faith an imperceptible nod. The future slayer had to resist the overwhelming urge to expel her relief in a sigh but it was a fleeting impulse. She stood by them, her back to the kitchen as she regained her razor focus. 

"Seth. He's Gabriel's lieutenant. He was the one I was…running from," she finished the latter with all the conviction of a three year old. No matter her focus, Faith knew that she would never be strong when it came to talking about Seth. Well, at least not by herself. Maybe if these people could lend her strength, maybe, just maybe, she would finally deal. 

"He's the reason for her scars," Willow burst in, her voice filled with fire. She had glared poignantly at Spike when she spoke, her eyes trying to convey the information she wanted to tell him. 

Spike dropped his hands from Buffy's shoulders after Willow had spoken. A far too inhuman growl resonated from his gut and his head whipped around to Faith. He raised a tentative hand to her face, tracing the jagged scar marring her otherwise immaculate features. He couldn't stop his hand from shaking as his fingertips traced the horrible imperfection from her forehead to just above her chin. The demon within him screamed for vengeance. Why it cared for this girl, he did not question. His only concern was to control the beast within until he could unleash it on the creature that dared lay its hands on his surrogate-daughter. 

He forced his trembling limb to his side. _One objective at a time, _he chided. He ran his hands through his tangled locks, his feet carrying him from the crowd of females to a corner of the room. 

"Seth? Did he follow you? How did he know you were here? What happened?" Buffy demanded. 

"I don't know," Faith conceded. How did he know how to get to her? There was only one answer to that particular question; an answer Faith didn't want to acknowledge. "But don't worry, he won't harm her. He wants me and only me," Faith assured. 

"Well, he ain't gonna get you, pet," Spike growled, his back facing the women. 

"Spike is right," Buffy replied, her voice was still shaky yet fused with control. "We're not gonna let him just take you without a fight." Despite the bravado, Buffy felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what this Seth could be doing to her sister. If she hadn't have been messing around with Spike…

"He also wants the locket," Faith added, wrenching Buffy from her guilt-laced conscience. 

"Oh, I have it," Buffy announced. She dug her small hand into her pocket and engulfed the tiny metal in her right palm where she found it was warm. "Wow," she whistled, handing it to Faith. "It wasn't this warm when we found it." 

Faith dangled the locket in front of her face, studying it. She closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply before exhaling, refocusing her eyes on the silver piece in front of her. "It's been used," she stated. "Did either one of you get hurt?" she asked, looping the chain around her neck. The duality of the cool chain versus the warmth of the locket nestled just above her breasts calmed Faith immensely. Much of the tension was drained from her as she waited for one of the two blondes to answer. 

"Spike…" Buffy said, unable to keep the slight crack from her voice, "he almost got staked. They just missed his heart, but still…"

"What?" Willow asked. 

"When we were…when I saw it, it was almost healed, as if nothing had really happened. I know vampires heal quickly but…"

"It was the locket," Faith interjected. "It has healing properties that kick in automatically in the presence of," _me or my parents, _she thought to herself but said, "those whose purpose is pure." She almost made a face, the incredulity of the reasoning shaky even to her. 

"Nuthin's pure 'bout me, luv," Spike smirked, finally turning toward the women. 

Faith couldn't help but smirk back. "We all know _that, _Mr. Big Bad. But your purpose tonight with Buffy was pure. You were out there looking for this for me because you wanted to, not because you wanted to impress anyone." She held his gaze until he looked away, muttering 'whatever' under his breath. _Guess you're gonna hold onto that Big Bad persona kicking and screaming, _Faith thought amusedly. She also hid her relief that no one seemed like there were going to pursue the matter further. 

"Do you know who attacked you?" Willow directed to Buffy. 

"Five vamps and some sort of shadow thingy is all I can tell you. Even Spike had trouble keeping up with the shadow puppet." 

"So they must have split up," Faith thought pensively. When she caught Buffy's perplexed look, she explained. "A little after you guys left, I had a run-in with three Flanzen'da demons out back," she said, one hand firmly on her hip as the other fidgeted with her strawberry blond locks. 

"Flamingo huh?" Buffy scowled in confusion. 

"Flanzen'da demons, luv," Spike corrected from his position in the corner. "Nasty buggers. Covered with a thick hide and right wicked bone protrusions from their…well, from pretty much everywhere. Though I don't know why they'd fancy this place. Don't like to much fraternizing with other denizens of the demonic persuasion." He fished a cigarette from the inside pocket of his duster and shoved it between his lips. He pulled his silver Zippo out, igniting it and nervously brought it to his lips when he felt the weight of four pair of eyes burrow into him. 

"What?" he asked flabbergasted and stared into the eyes of his love, her gaze nullifying any retort. "Fine, then," he snapped the lighter shut. The fag hung loosely from his lips and he stood defiantly, his hands thrust deep into his duster. 

Buffy rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to Faith. If it weren't for the current situation, she would definitely take advantage to tease Spike for his obvious sulking. "But when we got to the front, I felt something like a vampire…only not," Buffy conceded. 

"That was Seth," Faith said flatly. "And yes, he is a vampire."

Buffy furrowed her brow and craned her neck to the side in the general direction of the front door and back again. "So, the Flanzen'da demons busted the door…"

"No…that w-was th-the vampire," Tara said, wincing at the slow ache creeping back up into her arm. 

Buffy noticed for the first time the haggard expressions on the two Wiccas faces. "Did he get in here?" They nodded. "But how?" 

"Seth's not your typical vampire," Faith said. She spent the next ten minutes bringing the vampire and slayer up to speed on the night's events. 

"And you guys are okay?" She cast concerned glances towards the two Wiccas. 

"Well," Willow quipped, "as okay as can be having your arm, you know, ripped from the nestle-y part of the shoulder can get." 

"Yeah, and t-the concussion," Tara added, waving her hand, "was not a problem, either. Other than leaving you with the nausea and ringing sensation in your ears…" Tara blushed at the look of surprise etched across Buffy's face. 

"So, he doesn't have to be invited in, is what you're saying," Buffy asked, shaking off Tara's sardonic remarks. She sat in the recliner, staring over at the three women who had retaken their seats on the couch. Though he was no longer in the corner, Spike stood behind Buffy like a sentinel, daring anyone or anything to try to take _her._

"That's about it. Other than the natural afflictions to the sun and holy items, standard methods of killing, such as stakes and immolation…out the window," Faith informed. "And what with the prophecy and all, I'm not even sure that the sun would be of use."

"So the Nibblet will be alright?" an unusually anxious Spike asked. 

"Yeah," Faith assured. She really didn't want to get into the reasons why she knew this, but knew she had to assuage their concerns. "As long as he has me…in his sights," she took a deep breath, "he won't bother her." 

"He won't hurt you again, Faith," Tara affirmed. Everyone was taken aback at the vehemence behind her statement.

"So he wants us at the Bronze at twelve? Why?" Buffy inquired.

"Don't know," Faith answered, absently nibbling at her thumbnail, lost in thought. It was weird. After she had calmed from her hysterics, Faith had asked herself that same question. She was right there, for the taking, yet he took Dawn instead. Something was definitely out of order but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. 

"Something else is going on," Buffy said, intimating her daughter's thoughts. "What do you think, Spike," she turned around only to be greeted by empty space. "Spike? Where did he go?" She asked the three women. 

"I don't know," Willow conceded, "I didn't see him leave." 

Buffy stood up, to look for the vampire when a hand grabbed her by the arm.

"I'll get him," Tara said, her smile slackening the mounting tension creeping back into the Buffy's muscles. 

"Thanks, Tara." Buffy tenderly squeezed the Wicca's hand. The blond slipped through the hall and into the kitchen without another word. 

"Well, I'm gonna give Xander a call, let him know you're back and see how he's doing," Willow said standing. She nervously brushed imaginary lint from her shirt before heading towards the stairs. 

"Willow," Buffy called and her best friend turned around, "tell Xander I hope he's feeling better. And that we'll be at the Magic Box tomorrow to research this prophecy." Willow nodded and disappeared up the steps. 

Buffy dropped her eyes to her boots, studying the scuffs in them intently. "So, are you sure Dawn will be okay, Faith?" She asked. 

"Trust me, he won't harm her. He wouldn't. Not when he has me to look forward to. He'll just use her as leverage. He won't snack on her or…anything else." Buffy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding at Faith's assurance. Though Buffy wasn't one to go on reassurance, part of her knew that Dawn would be fine, just like always. 

"Good," she said, turning to Faith. She strode over to her daughter, taking a seat on the couch next to her. Her gaze was hard yet unreadable. "Because we need to talk."

***Though not much happened in the way of action in this chapter, its very pivotal as far as carrying the rest of the story. 

***Part 2 will have Spike and Tara have a little talk. Buffy and Faith will have their chat in Part 3. 

***Gimme some reviews…


	23. Laying Blame II

***Spike and Tara have a little chat. 

***Thanks to Trisha (_Keeper of Truth, Slip of Mind, etc.) _ for offering me some insights into improving my fic. Thanks. 

CHAPTER 23

He stood in the bottom of the steps, arms tensed at his sides restlessly. For the fifth time in as many minutes, he ran his fingers through his tussle of blond hair. He peered out into the night sky; some of it still blanketed by the gray clouds while small patches of stars were now becoming visible through the migrating clouds. He sighed audibly, pinching another cigarette from the pack stashed in his inner pocket. He twirled it around in his fingers, admiringly, before situating it between his lips. He had already disposed of two fags since slipping away, his mind desperately inhaling the nicotine, depending on the substance to rid him of the familiar sense of failure that seemed to follow him where ever he went. 

He ignited his lighter with a growl and was lost in the orange life of the flame. It danced and swayed in the slight breeze that whispered through the night, flickering as if it would cease its litany of movement, only to take it up once again with a renewed vigor. He laughed humorlessly. As much as fire reminded him of the all too fragile existence of life, strong and passionate one moment and burned away in the next, the stubborn flame before him was more akin to an unpleasant memory. They were formless and danced with the selfsame seductiveness, unable to be captured, refusing to be extinguished and flaring up when you had thought they had been stamped out. It was then that you discovered they would continue to burn until they consumed you. And Spike was slowly being devoured by the inferno that was his ineptitude. 

So lost in his thoughts, the vampire didn't sense the timid figure that walked out the door and onto the porch. She stood there, unsure of what to do or say for several minutes, watching tendrils of smoke rise from his lips into the cool night air. His head was tilted toward the sky as if he was searching for an answer. It wasn't until he cocked his head to the side that she knew she had been discovered. 

"Come to watch me, luv, or do you have something to say?" he asked flatly. A year ago, such a tone would have sent Tara back into the kitchen, stammering out an apology. But she had changed a lot in a year. Then again, she really didn't have much of a choice, being a Scoobie pretty much required constant change and adaptation to things. 

"I--I," she stuttered out, her nervousness not a result of his tone, but her insecurity as what to say. She took a deep breath and forced the determination to the surface. "I came to see how you were doing," she offered as she walked up behind him. She rested her right hand on the banister and winced at the dull ache still present in her shoulder. Yeah, after all this was over, she had to get to a doctor. She dropped the injured arm to her side and leaned back against the banister. She studied the sharp contours of the vampire's profile in front of her. Though not of the heterosexual persuasion, Tara wasn't blind. The sharp angles of Spike's cheeks coupled with his piercing blue eyes gave him the look of a beautiful assassin, alluring yet deadly. But there was something else too that he tried so desperately to hide with his all too often scowls and grunts of indifference. Despite his commonly feral temperament, there was a softness about him that he rarely showed. If it wasn't for her observant nature, Tara doubted she would have ever discovered that side of him. As it was, she only saw it whenever Buffy walked into the room or when Dawn presented him with that hero-worship smile of hers. Even in his grief during Buffy's absence, he'd let his guard down anytime he heard his Nibblet laugh, which hadn't been too often. But there had been one other time he had shown it and even in her haze of pain, she had seen it. It had been the day in the Magic Box when her family had returned to take her back. Though he said he like her father for his chicanery into convincing her she was a demon, he had shot her a furtive glance, smiling at her with his eyes. She had thought she imagined it then but as she spent more time around him, she knew it wasn't a trick of the light. 

"Doin' fine, luv. No need to worry," he returned, and tossed the used up fag to the ground, smashing it with a booted toe. Tara didn't reply and Spike felt her gaze intensify ever so slightly. He cocked her an annoyed look, running his hand through his hair (again) before growling at her. 

"Something, I can help you with, Tinker?" He tried to get angry, just so she'd go away but one look into her eyes and he knew she wasn't going anywhere. Besides, he had no right to be angry, what with this all being his fault. 

"What is it?" She asked as her brow furrowed in concern. She could feel the constriction of his body, like he was going to jump out of his skin. She knew it had to do with Dawn but his insecurities were rooted much deeper than his Nibblet being taken. 

"Hmmm, let's see," he said sardonically. He sighed loudly, his hands propped on his hips as he craned his neck to the sky, this time in mock indignation. After a few moments, his eyes found hers and the raw concern that stared back at him was almost enough to disarm his angst. But almost wasn't enough. 

"Aside from the fact I was almost a neat pile of dust earlier? Or the fact that the love of my life _and _un-life will have the poofter's child and I still trail at her side only to die by her hand? Which is not a bad way to go, I might add," The last part was said so casually that if she weren't more aware of the being in front of her, Tara would have missed the hurt in his voice. "To top it off," he added, "I manage to sh…to tie the slayer up so long in patrolling that lil' sis gets nabbed." He searches her intently before culminating his rant. "Anything else I forgot to mention?"

He stalked off, further into the yard, hands thrust in his pockets. Tara watched him for a few minutes, empathizing with him. It had been a rough two weeks for the vampire as Buffy had confided in her that she had ended her 'relationship' with him. He had been devastated, of course and had made himself scarce, other than patrolling or watching their backs. But she had caught them earlier and knew it was only a matter of time before Buffy realized what Tara had a while ago. She had been the only one Buffy trusted to talk to about everything and had spoken to her on several occasions after the break-up. The shrill tone of Buffy's voice and her morose attitude was a dead giveaway what she was feeling for the vampire. 

She truly cared for Spike. But Tara knew it wasn't as simple as that. As strong as Buffy was physically, emotionally, she was quite vulnerable, a trait that strengthened her resolve as 'Queen of Denial' more than anything. She had intimated to the slayer that maybe if she changed the dynamics of her and Spike's relationship, things might workout. But all she saw, at least in her words, was Spike as a soulless demon who'd quite possibly go on a killing spree the second the chip was out and it'd be Angel all over again. Sometimes Tara wondered if she knew Spike better than even Buffy did. She had seen the vampire a lot over the summer and the way he had been affected by her death. It didn't help that for the first few weeks afterward, Xander had all but spoken his resentment of the vampire failing Buffy. And then one night, Xander had let all his feelings go, ripping into Spike for his ineptitude in keeping Dawn safe and Buffy from dying. Tara had seen the sheer agony his words had caused Spike as the vampire had left the shop. She had been the one to reach him then, following him to Buffy's grave where he cried and, after awhile, she walked from the shadows and joined him in his grief, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. They never spoke about it and it was all still fresh in her mind. That was why she knew what it was that plagued him now. 

Tara made her way down the rest of the steps and slowly walked up to him. She stood in front of him, looking up into his pale eyes. 

"It's not your fault," she said softly. Spike looked at her dazed. What did she mean by that? How did she…?

"What are you babblin' about, luv?" He asked, his tone shakier than he would have liked. He nervously raked his pockets for his pack of fags, only to come up with an empty pack. "Bugger," he muttered to himself and started back toward the house when Tara's hand stopped him. 

"Spike," she pled and this time he noted the genuine concern in her voice. It stopped him in his tracks as he waited for what she had to say. "You can beat yourself up all you want but it won't make a difference. All it will do is eat you up inside, consume you with guilt you shouldn't feel. And in the end," she grabbed his hand for emphasis, "it's only going to hurt you when they need you most." Spike glared at the woman holding his hand in disbelief. What did she know? She didn't know…but she did. Tara always had. Ever since the confrontation with her family, he knew she saw him in a light apart from all the stories she had been told about him. Then, there was the scene in the cemetery. In some ways, he felt more at ease around her than anyone else. Though he tried his damnedest to maintain his 'Big Bad' persona, Tara wasn't fooled. And it was that reason he felt no shame when a tear trickled down his pale cheek. 

"If we hadn't…" he began but faltered. He hoped Tara didn't catch that. "If we'd have been here sooner…"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Tara assured. "Besides, that's not the only thing that's bothering you. You still haven't forgiven yourself for Buffy dying."

Spike reeled at the last sentence. She was right. No matter what he did, no matter how much he rationalized, a part of him would always feel guilty for failing Buffy on that tower. Though she had been back for several months now, he still sometimes had the same dream where he saved her in so many ways. Other times, he'd dream about how he'd fail her next time. But he never did anything half-assed and when he failed, he failed miserably. Just like that spring night. Just like tonight. 

"Spike, it wasn't your fault. _This _isn't your fault. And if you're looking for me to tell you how bad a person you are, or how this is your fault…you're talking to the wrong person." Tara said as if reading his thoughts. The last was said with an air of finality that produced a wan smile from the vampire. 

"You're right, Tara. I know you are. It's just that sometimes…"

"You still see yourself as evil and if anything bad happens, especially to the people you care about, it has to be your fault." It wasn't a question. Spike only smirked at the woman's perceptiveness. 

"When did you get so bloody introspective, Tinker," Spike asked playfully.

Tara gave him her disarmingly sweet smile. "Always have been, you guys just never seem to ask me about things."

"I never asked you," he said giving her the raised eyebrow. 

"Well…that's not the point, is it?" She replied and gave the unsuspecting vampire a warm hug. 

Spike stared down at her before he awkwardly returned the embrace. After a few seconds, they stepped apart. Tara noticed Spike's insecurity as what to do next. He looked at her with the sheepish face of an eight-year-old. She smiled and patted him on the arm before walking to the door. 

"I'm about to head back in," she called to him then stopped, remembering something. Spike turned to look at her questioningly. 

"And Spike?" 

"Yeah, pet?" 

"Everything'll work out. Everything," she smiled wistfully before resuming her walk back into the house, the door closing slowly behind her. 

__

Everything'll work out? Spike thought, staring at where the blond witch had just been. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration. What did she mean by that? She had said it with such an air of confidence that he had no doubt that she knew something. Hey just didn't know what that 'something' was.

Shaking the thought off, Spike returned his gaze to the slowly clearing sky. Tara was right. It wasn't his fault that Dawn had been kidnapped; just like it wasn't when Buffy died. He cringed at the still all too raw thoughts of failing Buffy…no, he didn't fail her. He had done his best, all things considered. Was it his fault that it hadn't been good enough? His mind knew the answer was no but his heart had yet to be convinced. 

***This chapter was hard for me to write for some reason. I wanted it to convey something that would linger for the rest of the fic. I think I got it right. 

***Part III will be up as soon as possible. Most likely Wednesday. Possibly Thursday. I don't wanna rush it. 


	24. Laying Blame III

***Buffy & Faith have a talk***

CHAPTER 24

The two Summers women rocked back and forth pensively, waiting for the other to speak. Although Faith knew the ball was in her court, she didn't know where to begin. There was so much she had to answer for yet she remained silent. If it were possible, maybe Buffy would ask her the wrong questions. She could give the right answers to those. One thing she didn't want to do was lie. Buffy had never lied to her. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. There were a handful of occasions where her mother had dispensed with not-truths and keeping her in the dark about the prophecy and other things. But it had always been for a reason. Though she had become bitter for a time, as she matured she understood that sometimes the truth was the last thing you wanted to face. The truth made you face reality and you saw how harsh and cruel that reality could be. Living in your own fantasy world was infinitely easier, yet was it truly living?

"Is it true?" Buffy asked, her face grim with determination. Her eyes were filled with resolve and a touch of trepidation. What if it was true and Spike was Faith's father, what then? She didn't know whether to feel relieved or even more fearful than when she thought it was Angel's. Relief would definitely come knowing she wasn't some vampire bed-hopper who went to her first love for a quick turn in the sack. The fear was from the rationalization that if she were ever to have a child, it would be out of love; a love she would give with her heart and soul. And though she finally could admit to herself that she did care for Spike, did that necessarily equate to the love she always imagined would produce a child? She was so confused, yet her outer shell hid the tumultuous emotions raging inside her. Her whole body ached with tension and it was from sheer force of will that she remained still, her hands clasped together in her lap. 

Faith couldn't look her mother in the eye for more than a second or two at a time. Buffy's glistening eyes screamed at Faith for the truth. But they also trembled with the knowledge that the truth would be something she didn't want to hear. Spike didn't have a soul and it had taken Buffy years before she realized that it didn't matter…

_"What's a soul, Mum?" the six year old girl asked, her fingers lost in the tangles of her hair. Buffy had been meditating when Faith had entered the room. Thus it wasn't her daughter's presence that disrupted her, but the depth of the question. _

"What did you say honey?" she asked, feigning ignorance. Maybe, just maybe, Faith would be too intrigued by her long hair to remember what she asked. 

"What's a soul?" she repeated. She had tired of playing in her hair and instead busied herself with several partially successful attempts of standing on her head. Any other time, Buffy would have warned her about it but she was too preoccupied attempting to formulate a reply. 

"Well sweetie," she began as she drew her knees up to her chest, "a soul is…it's like the part of you that tells you when what you are doing is good or bad." She glanced tentatively over at her child who had stopped the tumbling routines and stared at Buffy, thoughtfully. 

"Does everybody have one?"

"Yes, sweetie. We are born with it."

"Does God give it to us?" **Uh oh, **Buffy thought. **So not my area of expertise. **

"Ummm…yes, baby, He does."

"Does he put them in us when we are born?" Buffy nodded in response. Faith grunted her understanding so far. Buffy sat quietly, hoping that this conversation would be over quickly, yet knowing her daughter's…

"Do the bad monsters you and Daddy fight have a soul?" 

****

How to answer this one! Buffy thought and ran a hand through her damp hair. 

"Not like we have, baby."

"What do you mean? Aren't they born?"

"Yeah, they are. But it's different for them. The place they are born…it's not like our place."

"Is it bad? Is that why they are bad?"

"That's right, honey."

"So…do all the monsters not have a soul?"

"Yes, sweetie."

"And if you don't have a soul, then you are bad?"

Buffy didn't like how the conversation was going but answered anyway. "I guess so."

"And vampires don't have souls, either?"

"No, Faith, they don't."

"Then is Daddy bad?" Buffy's mouth dropped to the floor, her eyes bulging. She couldn't believe what her little girl had just asked her. And more to the point, how did she answer that? Best case scenario and Faith would be totally confused. Worst case? Well, she didn't fancy that particular line of thought. 

"Of course not, sweetie," Buffy choked out, waiting for the proverbial 'other shoe'.

"Well, he doesn't have a soul, does he?" She gazed at her mother patiently. Buffy was a bit unnerved by the cool determination of her daughter's blue/green embers. It was the same look Buffy gave Spike when he was less than forthcoming about things. She was proud of that look, considering it inundated a soulless vampire with fits of guilt, quite a feat to say the least. Now, she was faced with a foe much more challenging and wily than a hundred and fifty year old master vampire: a precocious six-year-old girl. 

"Where did you get that from, baby?" **When in doubt, go on the defensive. **

"Well, I know you tell me Daddy is different and that's why he can't stay in the that long and he's done the 'grrr' face and all…"

"The 'grrr' face?" Buffy asked incredulously. She couldn't be talking about…no, Spike knew better than that. Didn't he?

"Yeah, you know. When his face gets all wrinkle-y and bumpy." Buffy rolled her eyes inwardly. This **was **Spike…of course he wouldn't know better. 

Faith, noticing her mother's rising ire went for the save. "He didn't mean to, Mummy. It was just…" she fumbled for the right words, desperate to save her dad from mom's volatile temper. "I can tell he's different…" she whimpered, more concerned about her daddy than her question. 

At Faith's confession, the irritation drained from Buffy's face, replaced by surprise.

"You can tell? How?" She asked the small child huddled a few feet from her. 

"I don't know, I just can…" there was a long pause before Faith continued. "Like I can tell you are different. And Auntie Tara and Auntie Willow are different. And Auntie Dawn. You just feel…different from other people. Not like Grandpa Giles used to or Auntie Maria or Katie's mum." Faith watched her mother, pensively. She hoped that had been enough to curb her mother's obvious displeasure in her Daddy showing her the 'grrr' face. And though Faith wanted to get off the subject, she had to know…

Buffy sat cross-legged on the floor, her thoughts drifting to what Faith had told her. The little girl could sense the differences in the whole gang. She wasn't sure if it was just because Faith hung around them so much or…

"Well, Mommy?" Buffy jumped as the girl's voice pierced the haze. 

"Huh? What?"

"About Daddy. Is he bad?" The young girl thought about it for a minute. "I mean, I know he's not **bad** bad, but since he doesn't have a soul, what does that make him?" Buffy had to restrain from laughing out loud. It had been the same question that had plagued her for years before she finally accepted Spike completely. He may have been lacking the technical soul she had harped on for so long, but he possessed something far greater. Something that even those born with a soul lacked. 

Humanity. 

It hadn't always been like that but he had grown in ways she couldn't have imagined possible. His love for her and Dawn had gradually (and begrudgingly so on his part) extended to the remaining Scoobies. Buffy had seen him shed silent tears at Xander and Anya's funeral when he thought no one was around. But she had known well before that that he was everything she wanted and needed. How she had accomplished that was simple; she had stopped fighting the idea that a soulless being could be as human as anyone created by a man and a woman. Sometimes more so. Just as she was unique as the slayer, Spike was much more than unique. She didn't know if there was a word to describe him and she stopped trying long ago. 

"Faith, you're right. Your Daddy is a vampire. And vampires don't have souls. But your Daddy: he's special and not just in a Daddy way," she scooted over to the girl that was a spitting image of her, with flecks of Spike thrown in, and beckoned Faith to sit in her lap. The little girl complied, leaning back into Buffy's chest. She inhaled the raspberry scent of the girl's lotion and smiled. This was her baby. Her and Spike's, conceived from a love she thought she could never give. Faith was their treasure, just like Spike was hers. How could you put that into words?

"Your Daddy, as far as vampires go, is more than special. I don't know if there is a word to describe him other than that. There was a time when he was…"

"Will-yum the Bloody?" 

"Uh, yeah," Buffy forced out through clinched teeth. She needed to have a talk with a certain blond vampire about some things. But that could wait. "He wasn't always the good person that he was. But he changed. It took time, but he did it. I don't think any vampire has ever, or will ever, do what he did."

The girl craned her head so she could look her mother in the eyes. "And what was that, Mum?"

"Even though he changed, he always kept the thing that we makes us what we are: his identity of the person he once was-and is now." Faith's eyebrows scrunched as she absorbed the information. Although she didn't quite get it, she kind of did. Not in the whole mental understanding, but a deeper understanding she felt in her bones and it was something that, despite her questions, she had always known. 

"It's true," Faith whispered, her eyes remained fixed on the carpet. 

Buffy gasped as the truth spilled from Faith's lips in two simple words. Her and Spike…with a child? Buffy felt the all too familiar ache of tension creep into her muscles. Her heart threatened to explode from her chest as her lungs begged for oxygen she could not give. She closed her eyes and tears she did not know were there spilled down her cheeks. She saw Spike in her mind, all the things he was, all the things he had done. She saw what they were at one time, mortal enemies, neither ever having the advantage. Her memories shifted as she saw what he was now, what he was to her. Her lover, her patrol partner, her one constant in life. And still, they were equal. She remembered the night in the alley, her fists bruised from slamming into his face as he lay there, passive. "You only hurt the one you love," he had said to her, smirking under an abundance of bruises. She had hurt him deeply that night, but it wasn't just physical, it ran far deeper. And she was armed with the knowledge that her slightest barb could cut him deeper than her fists ever could. But as she held that advantage, he knew that despite her denial, she couldn't resist him. And the more she came to him, the more the field of play came to becoming even once again. 

Buffy snapped out of the deluge of memories that bombarded her. She ran her shaky hands through her hair, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. She had no idea what to do. Since she had been back, she had yet to experience the full assault of human emotions. They had come and gone, though they were always diluted, her apathy of the world in general dulling them to shadows of feeling. How she had wanted to feel again. She had felt with Spike, felt alive as if for the first time but it wasn't enough. With Spike her only release, she was dying, albeit slowly. She needed to feel on her own again, without her lover's touch to rekindle the fire she had lost in her re-birth. She prayed to God that one day she would become the person she once was. 

If only God had not been listening to her. 

The moment Faith had uttered those two words, everything was lost in a tailspin and Buffy was invaded by feelings she thought long forgotten. Relief and hope mixed with excitement and terror, not to mention her mainstay of denial as it all gelled within her mind, propelling her thoughts even faster into the realms of the unknown. 

"Why?" She heard herself finally speak, her voice full of barely contained emotion. She wiped the tears away roughly with the back of her hand and waited for her daughter to look at her. 

"Why didn't you tell us?" She asked again, a hint of anger creeping into her uncertainty. Faith's resolve strengthened and she finally made eye contact and the gleaming jewels of light that looked back at Faith broke her heart. Faith knew this was likely the reason Emerald had told her to be vague when discussing her true father. It had taken Buffy years to accept Spike and this knowledge that she would give birth to his child probably frightened her more than anything. She probably wanted to run, run far away from this house, her sister, friends, and especially him. 

Buffy could see the conflict of emotions waging war inside of Faith and she wondered if her own fears were as evident. She tried to remain patient as Faith was undoubtedly wrestling with what to say. She knew there had to be a reason as to why this 'small' tidbit of information had been kept from all of them, she just didn't know if it would be enough to mete her current bout of discord. So she waited, her fists balled tightly in her lap, her fingernails dug into her pails, creating all too familiar crescent indentations as she earnestly clung to her last remains of patience. 

As her last bout of self-restraint broke from its moorings, Faith finally discovered her voice.

"I'm sorry, Buf…Mum. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth but…"

"But what?" Buffy snapped. Her temper had gotten the best of her and all other emotions took a back seat to the familiar and comfortable fervor of hostility. She stood briskly, her body taut with anger as her eyes burrowed into the girl before her. "So what? You thought you'd have a laugh? You thought it was funny to let us think that Angel was your father? Were you gonna even tell us the truth?" She yelled, her arms flailing wildly. 

"No," Faith whispered. 

"No, you weren't gonna tell us?" She nodded. Buffy she her eyes tightly, trying not to let her anger get the best of her. _Hell, if this was Spike, I'd have probably wailed on him by now, _she thought bitterly. 

"Spike. Oh my God," Buffy said to herself as it truly hit her. "Spike is the father of my child," she repeated, lowering herself back into the chair, her anger all but gone. Saying it out loud had made it real and it wasn't something she could take back. That was the funny thing with words; once they were said, there was no turning back. Was that the reason she was never honest with Spike? Why she could never tell him she really cared? 'I want you' was easy, there was no emotional attachment to it all but to say something as small as 'I care'…well, she didn't want to go there.

But she _did _care. She cared for him even more than she would allow herself to admit, much less say. He knew, bless his undead heart, but knowing that she cared and hearing it from her were worlds apart. The only words that ushered from her lips were ones designed to cut him to the core, to emasculate and eviscerate him. To belittle him to the point of…of what? Why was she so cruel? Why did she want to hurt him so much with her words and her fists? This had been the first time she had ever been honest about her actions toward him, the first time she realized how much of a bitch she really was to him. The thing was, she couldn't come up with even a half decent answer to it. How could she? How could she have a child by a man…a creature she didn't like half the time?

Faith had seen Buffy's transformation from seething slayer to a mannequin of confusion. She watched as Buffy stared vacantly at the floor, her thoughts obviously grasping the reality of it all. What would happen now? Would this help her accept him more readily or would she push him away as Faith knew her mother had done so often to others. What she hadn't been told by her mother, Emerald had shared with Faith before she had left. No, Buffy was far from accepting Spike and what he was. And if it went unchecked, Buffy might do something that would effect everything that was to follow. 

Instinctively, Faith walked over to the huddled slayer. She knelt in from of Buffy and placed her hand on Buffy's knee. The slayer jerked at the contact, her glassy stare floating towards the blue/green whirlpool of Faith's eyes. It pained Faith to see her mother like this. She had only seen this type of despair twice. Once when Willow and Tara had been killed. And the second time…

Faith's insides lurched as she thought back to the last time she had seen her mother. She had been so hurt and angry at what she had seen; she had left the crushed Buffy alone. The shame of it all hit her for the first time and silent tears of guilt flowed freely down her face. 

Unknown to Buffy, her and her daughter both lamented over the shame of their actions. Faith's tears had quelled some of Buffy's inner turmoil, bringing her back to current events. This girl, this woman before her, was her child. Produced by the unnatural union of vampire and slayer. It was all too much, and yet, it was what she needed. She didn't understand and wouldn't pretend to, but she could at least dispel some of the questions revolving around in her mind. 

"How? I mean, I thought vampires were a big no-go when it came to reproduction." 

Faith smiled lightly. "An after-effect of both of you exposed to the Rune of Amarra."

"The Rune of Amarra?" Buffy repeated but Faith waved her hand dismissively. 

"It was a part of the prophecy. Part of your essences transferred to one another. Your life essence provided him with minor shielding from the sun and gave him the ability to create life." Faith explained in the simplest possible terms. In actuality, it had been much more in depth. Buffy and Spike had conquered seemingly insurmountable odds in order to lay claim to the Rune. It had be only one of their many victories against evil. 

"Why?" she asked Faith, her hand tenderly wiping the tears from the young woman's eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Buffy's words snapped Faith out of her thoughts. Expecting disdain, Faith had been taken aback by the compassion in Buffy's tone. She closed her eyes when Buffy's hand cupped her cheek and Faith overlaid her own hand on top of Buffy's and just looked at her. Separated by more than forty years, she was finally reunited with her mother. How long it would last, Faith dared not venture to contemplate, but she would not waste what precious moments fate had given her by concealing it all with lies.

Taking a deep breath, Faith repositioned herself and sat cross-legged in front of her mother. She would tell her as much as she could.

"I'm sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier but…"

"But what? Do you hate me that much for what I've done…or what I'm going to do to get revenge on me?" She instantly regretted her words as a look of horror flashed across Faith's features. As quick as it was there, however, it vanished, replace with an unreadable mask, the only trace of diffidence was Faith's reluctance to maintain eye contact. _Just like Spike, _she thought to her self in a bittersweet frame of mind. 

"I deserved that. No," Faith held up her hand when Buffy motioned to speak, "you're right. I did hate you. I hated you for what you did to Daddy. I hated you with every fiber of my being." She finally raised her eyes and Buffy was taken back by their disgust. "But more than you, I hated myself. I hated myself for letting you do that to him. I hated myself for not finding a better solution to it all. For not being mature enough to understand what you two were sacrificing for me and everyone else in the world. But most of all," her eyes again fell to the floor, "I hated myself for abandoning you. I know I said you left me, but in truth, I was the one that left you. And that is something I have to live with for the rest of my life." 

Buffy was stunned. How did she respond to such a disturbingly heartfelt confession? She didn't know, so she surmised that silence was the best option. 

It took a few moments before Faith gathered the strength to continue. "But now's not the time for that. I know I wasn't truthful as far as the whole fatherly thing goes, but it wasn't because I wanted to get back at you. It wasn't even my bloody idea to keep it from you."

"Then who?" 

"Emerald. The woman who helped me get here," Faith absently fingered the locket that hung loosely around her neck, "she was the one. She told me…not to tell you."

"Oh, and you should really take the word of a psycho-bitch that's the right-hand of the vampire that basically rules the world. And that's not even bringing up the fact that she sicced a pit bull of a vamp on you," Buffy said sardonically. 

__

Faith rolled her eyes in irritation. Though Buffy was right, she still didn't know it all. To be honest, Faith didn't either. Still, she was none too pleased at her mother's huffy attitude, though warranted. She had always wanted to knock Buffy off that pedestal she stood on if only for a moment. Nothing hurtful, just the truth. 

"Well, that 'psycho-bitch' made sure nothing happened to you." Faith smiled inwardly as Buffy's face distorted with confusion. 

"Huh?"

"When I…left you, Gabriel's minions had caught up with us," she was unable to meet Buffy's bewildered eyes as she spoke, "and I left you there, crying in the streets. I didn't even help you when they surrounded you, and you didn't even fight back."

Buffy only gaped at the woman, who now looked so much like a little girl, in disbelief. She was hurt by Faith's admission that her only daughter would leave her practically defenseless in the teeth of the enemy but even more so by the knowledge that Emerald…protected her? 

"Why?" Buffy managed.

"Don't know," she lied. One oversight wouldn't hurt. "Said you reminded her of someone." _Well, at least that part is slightly accurate, considering she was your sister. _

"And this Gabriel guy," Buffy barreled ahead, "he didn't kill me because?"

"Not sure, but I think he wasn't too keen on the prophecy. I know it said that only through death at the hands of a loved one would he be weak enough for me to kill him, but I really don't think he wanted to take the chance that it was false. I mean, considering the fact that the prophecy of his own destiny was altered by some time-hopping freak and that An…" She stopped. She had almost forgetting that Buffy didn't know about Angel and Connor. _Gotta watch that tongue, girly, _she reprimanded herself. "Anyway, the why's not important, just that Emerald made sure none of Gabriel's demons lay a hand on you. 

Realizing that this would only open up another line of questioning, Faith impatiently waved off the perplexed slayer. "But anywho, that's not really important now. I just wanted you to know why I took her word and didn't tell you guys."

But Buffy still wasn't sold on this mystic woman. "So if she had so much clout, then why did she let Seth…hurt you?" 

Faith's heart lurched at the reminder. Not of Seth but of Dawn's…no, Emerald's failure to stand up for her as she did Buffy. In Emerald's defense, she did in fact share blood with the slayer so it would stand to reason that the First that inhabited her was in control by that time still maintained a sliver of love for Buffy. Before It had overtaken Dawn, she had been a part of Faith's life for ten years. But what was ten years compared to the forty-plus she had shared with Buffy? _No, it's not important, _Faith lied to herself. Despite all her rationalizations, Emerald not coming to her aid in those nine months hurt almost as much as the things Seth had done to her. 

"It doesn't matter," she replied coolly, shaking off the searing pain within. "What matters is that, aside from being a dimensional diva with the portals and all, Emerald is somewhat of a seer."

"Damn," Buffy whistled, "what _doesn't _this lady do?"

Faith cracked a small smile before continuing. "Anyway, she had told me to keep it away from everyone and at all costs, from Spike."

"Yeah, but I don't get why. I mean, is he gonna head for the proverbial hills when he finds out? I mean, because I can't take another guy leavin…" she slammed her eyelids shut when she realized she had spoken the last part aloud. 

Faith's heart went out to her mother. Buffy's whole life had been marred by people going away, either in the throes of death or otherwise. She knew her mother didn't love Spike now (at least she didn't _think _she did) but he had always been the mainstay of Buffy's life, either as an enemy or ally. How could she tell Buffy the truth about it all? 

"The truth, Mum? If he does find out, Emerald said he would die." Brutal honesty had always been Faith's strong suit; a trait definitely passed on to her by Spike. 

Buffy laughed harshly at the simplicity of Faith's words. Spike? Die? Impossible. She had never thought about him dying…well that wasn't exactly true. The whole Parent-teacher incident took her to flights of fancy, envisioning him at the pointy end of a stake. Then there was the whole Gem of Amarra incident. And she wasn't even going to _think _about the Buffy-bot fiasco. Okay, so she did think about him changing his name to 'Mr. Dusty', but only by her hands. If she couldn't kill him, then he was off limits. Period. End of story. Hell, if he could withstand the torture of a hell-god, what was the itty-bitty truth of finding out he had a daughter? 

"How?" Buffy asked as her harsh laughs died down. "I mean, how can the knowledge that he is your daughter kill him?"

Faith shrugged. "All I know is what Emerald said."

"So she told you that if Spike found out, he would die?"

"Yeah," Faith started but then hesitated. Buffy caught the slight pause. 

"What?" 

"Well…she didn't exactly use his _name,_" she conceded. 

"Well, what did she use? Some type of alias, like 'Dead Boy'? The Platinum Express? Captain Peroxide?" Buffy threw out in exasperation. The thought of Spike dying, however vague the reference was, unsettled her. 

"Well, like I said, Emerald is a seer of sorts. And you know how seers tend to be cryptic." Seeing her mother's eyes narrow, Faith threw up her hands. "Oh, bloody hell, woman. You know that Rule No. One in the Seers Guide to Future Reading states that 'I do solemnly swear that I will dictate my visions as vague as possible, allowing said visions to be construed in no more than seven (7) distinct and/or literal translations'." 

Buffy giggled at her daughter's irritation with her and the obvious memo she herself had not received on seers. But she did know a little about prophecies and that definitely sounded accurate. 

"Okay, so what did she say, exactly?"

"That _'the warrior shaded in darkness yet pulled toward light'_ would die if they found out. She also said that this warrior was _'ripped from life and now is eternal'_. Well, that was paraphrasing her. She spoke it in Latin. And I didn't want to bore you with all the 'ad's' and '-iuss', ya know?" She smiled at Buffy who returned it and for an instant, the mood had become something other than dire. But the seriousness of the situation returned as Faith got to her knees and took Buffy's hands in hers. All hints of life disappeared from Faith save for the piercing gaze of her eyes. Buffy was taken aback at how still she was now. _Definitely a trait from Daddy. _

"Mum, you can't tell Daddy about me. You just can't…" Faith's majestic eyes brimmed with tears but they did not fall. "I've lost him once already, I can't lose him again." She lay her head in Buffy's lap, comforted by her mother's hand stroking her hair. Faith closed her eyes and listened to the steady rhythm of Buffy's heartbeat. 

"Neither can I," Buffy whispered, "Neither can I." And for the second time in the span of a few hours, Faith was reminded of the almost forgotten feeling of love. Hope had once again risen within her at the conviction in her mother's voice. Before she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts mostly filled with the fantasy that things would, indeed, turn out right this time. 

She ignored the inkling of doubt that 'tomorrow' never ended up how you planned it. But that was life; it had a way of steering off course when you least expected it, dragging you, kicking and screaming into the harsh domains of reality.

***Finally done. It took me a while to finish it. I think these lasts chapters will take a little longer than the other ones so I won't be getting your hopes up as to when they will be updated. All I can say is no less than once a week. 

***Well, folks, Seth is on deck. Jennifer tells him and Rack about her plans for Dawn. And Seth goes to Jennifer on his plans for Gabriel…

***Again, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. 


	25. Forgiveness

***A bit of Willow and Tara***

CHAPTER 25

Sneaking her way from the kitchen to the stairs undetected was easier than Tara thought. Though her footfalls were a perfect match to her quiet personality, she figured that wouldn't be enough to get past two slayers. As it was, said slayers were occupied in what was no doubt a poignant and emotional conversation. Taking one last look at the two women in the living room, Tara hemmed up her long skirt and made her way up the steps. 

Tara's first stop was the bathroom where she wanted to wash away at least a portion of the blood now congealed in her hair. She slowly stripped her shirt off, mindful of her injured shoulder. Due to Faith's help, the pain was more than tolerable. Still, Tara wasn't familiar with dealing with the pain as her only real injury was a majorly broken hand at the mercy of Glory. However, due to insufficient lucidity, the pain was not quite as memorable as it should have been. 

She took ten minutes, using the shower to wash herself. She made herself presentable, though nothing short of a long, hot shower would clean her off completely, something she definitely did not have the energy for. Taking the last towel on the rack, Tara dried herself off before wrapping the towel around her chest and making a beeline for Willow's room. 

When she got there, the lights were off, though a small candle-like lamp held vigil on the dresser, its light casting an eerie glow across the room. Willow lay in the middle of the bed, her good arm draped across her eyes, mouth twisted in a slight frown. Tara smiled lightly at her ex-lover's childlike lip curl. She quietly walked over to her and sat down at the foot of the bed. The slight disruption of the mattress was enough to wake the redhead from her doze. Her tired scowl was replaced with an equally tired smile at the sight of her blond ex-lover.

"Hey," she croaked, already in the preliminary stages of frog-throat.

"Hey yourself," Tara smiled, her left hand affectionately brushing against Willow's foot. "So, did you get in touch with Xander? Is he okay?" Willow nodded.

"Yep. He's fine. He said he and Anya had taken out all the books they could find on anything having to do with relationships between vampires and slayers and prophecies concerning a slayer's child or any reference to a _Harbinger." _Willow stopped and her eyes closed again. "There was something else too, but I can't seem to focus. The pain-train from earlier must have fried some much needed brain cells," she moaned softly in order to re-enforce her point. 

"Oh sweetie, you need to get some rest," Tara cooed, getting up in order to sit next to Willow. Making sure to lean on her left side, Tara's right hand brushed lightly against Willow's thin bangs. The tender gesture elicited a smile from the redhead, giving her a quick boost. 

"Yeah, I know. If it wasn't for my continually interrupted conversation with Xander, maybe I would have been able to get in a few minutes before you came up." Willow sighed deeply before continuing. "I mean, all she was talking about on the phone is 'Xander, I can't believe your nose is broken', 'Xander is it gonna be healed by the wedding?', 'Xander, your nose is going to ruin the pictures' over and over again," she snorted. She sat up automatically, signs of an annoyed redhead.

"I mean, she didn't even ask if he was okay," she protested. "If she were any more shallow, it'd be like wading in a creek sans the water." She leaned back against the headboard. 

Tara couldn't help but smile at Willow's outburst. Both of them knew she was being babyish and unfair, but sometimes Anya got the best of her. Ever since the Troll fiasco last year, Willow and Anya had reached an uneasy alliance, though the ex-demon's proclivity towards the tactless was still enough to irk the redhead. Last year Tara had thought Willow still harbored feelings for Xander and was a tad insecure about it all. Never being the most confident person in the world, Tara wrongly assumed that if given the chance, Willow would pick Xander over her as if Willow's commitment to her hadn't been clearly stated in the redhead choosing her over Oz. 

"Whatcha thinkin' bout?" Willow asked interrupting Tara's thoughts. The blond just smiled at her, warming Willow to the core. It was always like that. One flash of her shimmering smile was always enough to make Willow believe that she was the only person in the world. Instinctively, Willow laid her hand on top of Tara's that was now resting comfortably on the redhead's stomach.

"Nothing," Tara replied. Immediately, Willow deployed her trademark resolve face and the good witch conceded. "Okay, so maybe something," she said, her eyes wandering to their now intertwined fingers. "Okay, definitely something…you," she finished, purposefully locking eyes with Willow. 

The heat of Tara's gaze ushered a pink flush across Willow's skin and her eyes fluttered slightly, going along nicely with the quickening of her heart. Flustered herself, Tara's eyes fell to the bed. 

"Willow," she began and pulled her hand away from Willow. She settled her hands in her lap and studied them intently as Willow's face fell at Tara's action. Tara tucked a loose bang behind her ear before looking up to Willow again. 

"I know things haven't been too good between us lately. I mean…I-I don't know. I mean, all the stuff that happened, Will, it's tough."

The redhead's face fell even further and her eyes welled with tears. "I know, Tara. I know I messed up big time," she laughed humorlessly, "I mean, I should have my own training video. Willow Rosenberg's twelve-step program: 'In one hour, or a simple incantation for the magically inclined, you can be expert at screwing up your life and those of the ones closest to you'. I could even have a book printed about how to rip your best friend out of heaven and still make yourself look like the victim…" she trailed off as a warm hand caressed her cheek where a stray tear slid down. 

"Willow," Tara said sternly but not without compassion, "stop beating yourself up. Yes, you made some mistakes. Some big ones," She lifted Willow's chin up before the redhead had a chance to lower it, "and you know what? You're gonna make other mistakes too."

"Yeah, maybe next time instead of erasing everyone's memory I can just go directly to making it like we were never born," she added dryly. 

"The point," Tara continued, ignoring Willow's self-torture, "is that you learn from them. Even bad mistakes, ones that you can't take back, have a purpose. If you learn from what you did, then everything won't seem as hopeless." She studied Willow intently and the slight girl returned her gaze, albeit unsteadily. "Have you learned from your mistakes?"

Willow stared at Tara and silence descended upon the room for several minutes. Finally, Willow replied in an emotionally charged voice. "Yes, Tara. Oh God, yes." And then she broke down. 

Tara watched uncomfortably as her former lover cried into the pillow. Her small body shook the bed and Tara was heartbroken to see her fire in so much pain. Crawling onto the bed fully, she pulled the distraught young woman from the pillow, placing Willow's head in her lap. 

Though at first she fought it, Willow finally acquiesced and let Tara hold her. This had been the first time she had cried; really cried since the night she almost killed Dawn. She didn't want to have anyone think that she deserved any type of pity or empathy. They gave enough of it to her when she struggled through the days. Tears would have only added to it all and she knew she didn't deserve it. Oh, she had learned a lot from it all. She had thought the pain of Oz leaving was bad, that it couldn't get any worse. Then there was Buffy's death that, in truth, she really didn't have a chance to mourn since she spent the entire summer researching for ways to resurrect her best friend. The only thing close to this was Tara's insanity brought on by the hands of Glory. Even that wasn't as bad as losing Tara. A part of her cringed at the selfishness of feeling more devastated at Tara leaving her than when the blond was out of her mind. Just another black mark to add to the horror of the last few months. Not only had she lost Tara, but she almost killed Dawn and hurt everyone close to her. Though Buffy was there for her, it had taken several weeks before Dawn had truly forgiven her, yet another grace she felt should have been denied to her. But she remembered what Giles had said about forgiveness. It wasn't given because you deserved it; it was given because you needed it. That in itself had presented another interesting revelation to her. Gaining the forgiveness of others was easy compared to the task of forgiving yourself. And that was something Willow hadn't been able to do. 

"Willow," Tara cooed and the redhead looked up, her face streaked with tears. "I know you and I know what you're doing. You still haven't forgiven yourself, have you?" 

"How can I, Tara?" she choked out. "I messed with your mind, twice, and that was after I saw what Glory did to you last year. I sucked my best friend out of Heaven and into hell…or the hell-mouth. And then, I almost get her sister killed. How can I expect…"

"I forgive you," Tara interrupted quietly. 

"Wh-what did you say?" Willow asked, pushing away in disbelief. Tara smiled slightly.

"I said I forgive you."

The smile that broke out on Willow's face was short-lived as she replaced it with a confused scowl. "B-but why?"

Tara smiled more broadly this time and stroked Willow's hair. "Because, it's the right thing to do. Because you need it. Because," she took Willow's face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead, "I love you."

Willow didn't know what to say. She had never thought Tara would forgive her. She knew the Wicca would, in some way, get over it, but to forgive her? It had only been a fantasy. It had been further promulgated with the time they had spent together that day. It was as if everything was back to normal. Willow cursed herself for not realizing that the stress of the day had caused that. But now, her fantasy had come true. She started to smile but saw the seriousness on Tara's face and broke eye contact, awaiting the inevitable 'but we can never be together' speech. 

Tara saw the hopeless expression crawl over Willow's features and wished she could just kiss her and make it all go away. But she couldn't. She had to be strong and say what she felt. 

"Will, I want you to understand something. Just because I've forgiven you doesn't mean we're back together," she said, feeling guilty about falling so easily into her lover's…ex-lover's company earlier in the day. 

"I know," Willow forced out, her voice small and full of disappointment. 

"There are a lot of things we need to work out. Things that only time can heal. Like trust." She saw Willow shrink even deeper into herself, and it was all Tara could do not to pull Willow into her arms and kiss her. "These last few months, with everyday you have controlled your magical urges, another block of the trust has been added. I do trust you Willow. Just not completely…not yet, at least."

The last comment had given Willow a boost and she tentatively looked up at Tara with renewed hope shining in her eyes. 

"I-I understand, Tara, I really do. And you'll see…I know I can do it. I know I can show you I can be trusted again. I…" But the blond silenced her with a finger on her lips. 

"Slow down, sweetie," she said with a smile. "Just remember, we can't rush this, okay?" Willow nodded. 

"Things won't ever be the same," Willow said and it was Tara's turn to look befuddled. Then the redhead smiled and added, "they will be better." They both smiled and embraced each other with a tentative hug. 

"So are you going to stay here tonight?" Willow asked hopefully. "I mean, considering that we have to be up and at 'em tomorrow, all research-y and stuff." Tara glanced up at the ceiling, the wavy light of the lamp casting half-hearted shadows above the bed. Even though she didn't want to lead Willow on too far, she didn't want to lie to herself. She had told Willow that it would take time but what she didn't say was that said time was a lot closer than she'd tell Willow. She couldn't say that aloud for fear of disappointment. She couldn't go through that heartbreak again. So she would just remain quiet about that and…

"Yeah, I'll stay," she conceded. Truth be told, she was nervous about going outside alone. And then driving back to campus in Sunnydale? No thanks. And what with two slayers in the house and all…Nope, staying didn't have anything to do with Willow. Well, maybe just a little…

"You can borrow some of my pjs if you want," Willow offered. She was pleased that it elicited a gentle smile from the blond Wicca. 

"Yeah, thanks," she said and they both got off the bed to get dressed only to return to the comfortable mattress. The got under the covers, mindful to keep at least a little distance between them, lest temptation rear its ugly (decidedly luscious and seductive and pleasureful) head. 

"Tara?" Willow called a few minutes later, her voice drowsy from sleep. 

"Mmm?" Tara replied.

"Thank you," she said simply as she allowed the last vestiges of resistance to peel away as sleep claimed her. 

Before she succumbed to exhaustion, Tara's mouth curved into a warm smile. She didn't have to ask what Willow meant. She already knew. It was the gratitude of being forgiven. Of being loved. Of being given a second chance. She knew they still had a lot to work through, but if this day had been any indication of what was to come for them, the proverbial 'greener pastures' were just around the corner. 

***This was supposed to be a quick snippet of Willow checking on Xander but it got out of hand, but not too much. I wanted to address some of the issues surrounding the W-T connection. 

***Okay, next chapter will have Seth back as well as Jennifer giving him some particulars on her plan. 

***Also, I'm gonna do a short song fic that's I can't get out of my head. It's gonna be called _Do What You Have to Do. _It should be up this weekend, along with the next chapter of _Family Ties. _

***Old and New reviewers alike are welcomed. Thanks to my daily supporters Trisha, Annastasia and Stumbeline. 


	26. Reality, Resolve, & Revenge

Finally, a new chapter. I'm also hard at work on chapter 27 that is basically the second part of this chapter. Mr. Bad-ass himself is back. 

CHAPTER 26

"Seth? What is wrong?" Jennifer asked, her hand casually sliding up and down her crossed thighs. He had been pacing back and forth for the past twenty minutes, muttering incoherently under his breath. 

"Who's Gabriel?" She asked, finally catching a decipherable clue. She was taken aback at the seething hatred in his eyes when he glared at her. 

"Gabriel," he forced out through gritted teeth, "is the bastard who sired me." He closed his eyes and deliberately took several unneeded breaths before opening his eyes slowly. "And he is a dead man." 

He melted into the loveseat next to her and closed his eyes. The silence stretched for several minutes and Jennifer was able to study the shockingly handsome features of the vicious killer next to her. She couldn't hide the smile that touched her lips at the paradoxical figure before her. Though they had just met technically a handful of hours ago, Jennifer couldn't help but notice the sense of familiarity that the vampire conveyed in her. He was filled with an infectious boisterousness but underneath it all simmered a quiet rage that was extremely volatile, apt to explode any second. But now, as his body molded to the lines of the chair, he looked so calm and peaceful, no signs of the killer he was visible on his nearly flawless skin. 

"What do you know about time travel?" he asked, causing her to jump. His eyes remained closed however as he enunciated every word with precision. "Not the H.G. Wells shit. I mean the real deal. The opening of cosmic portals type shit."

Jennifer's eyebrows creased as she was caught off guard by the line of questioning. The point of fact was that she did know a bit about dimensional travel through time. That was one of the reasons she was so interested in Dawn. The potential that lay within her blood was limitless. If everything went as planned, she would have that power at her fingertips. 

"Well," she began, mindful of her words, "it requires someone of extraordinary power to harness the energies of whatever tool is necessary to open the portal," _if a tool is necessary_**, **she added silently. "Also, the power drain of the individual would be incredible. In all likelihood, the person's life force would be completely absorbed, in effect killing them. I've been around since…well awhile, and I've only witnessed one successful attempt that didn't kill the host. Of course," she added ruefully, "said individual was thrown into a catatonic state for the remainder of his natural life."

Seth sighed in annoyance. "No, not the actual ritual or whatever the hell it is that's needed. I mean…" he paused, searching for the right words. Finally, he opened his eyes and continued. "I'm trying to understand it in the 'screwing with the whole order of things' way."

Jennifer cocked her head towards him and studied his eyes. "What are you getting at?" She sat up, concentrating her mental energies on him. Though his thoughts were shrouded to her, she could gauge his mood. It was all there. Anger. Frustration. Despair. Hope. And fear…

"Seth, what is it? What aren't you telling me?" 

He smiled tiredly and pushed himself up. Seth walked in front of her and kneeled down in front of her. This close, he couldn't help but feel the magnetic pull of her. It took all his will power not to ravage her where she sat. 

"You know how I've been hell-bent on getting my slayer, right?" 

She nodded. "The one called Faith, am I right?" 

"Yes, her name is Faith, all right but she is not the same Faith that is from this time." Gabriel had filled him in on some of the more poignant aspects of the time as a precaution. Always prepared was his sire's motto, though he was far from a Boy Scout. 

"What are you saying? That she is from another time?" Jennifer looked at him incredulously. She knew it was possible but the girl in the other room was the only being, at least in theory, which could accomplish temporal travel through portals with impunity. Jennifer was hard pressed to hide her excitement over the possibilities…

"From the future, to be exact," he informed her. "Actually, about forty years in the future. The same as me."

Despite all that she was and the things she had seen Jennifer couldn't help being somewhat surprised. She had realized when he had first come over to her table that there was something different about him. His essence was not quite in sync with the dimensional vibrations of this world. She had assumed that he had been transplanted from some parallel dimension or something to that effect. Traveling through time, as she had told him, was very strenuous, not only on the caster but the traveler as well. Even with the proper fulcrum to open the door as she theorized Dawn to be, most beings could never survive the trip through the gate. It was much more unconventional than moving between dimensions as it tore at the very fabrics of reality unlike any dimensional gate ever could. 

Jennifer parted her lips to speak when something clicked. 

"What?" Seth asked, noting the virtually imperceptible widening of her eyes. 

"That girl, the Summers child," she said in hushed tones. "She was the one who sent you here." Though it wasn't quite a question, Seth could read the slight uncertainty in her tone. His eyebrows wrinkled and his head slumped. 

"Yeah. That's her all right. My Emerald," he said, the last two words barely above a whisper. 

Though she remained calm on the outside, Jennifer could not harness her racing thoughts. So it was true! This girl, the slayer's sister, was not only the Key to other dimensions but she was also a portal through time. The implications of it all were stunning and Jennifer couldn't help but salivate at the opportunities this presented to her. Forgetting about Seth, she smiled evilly. 

"This is unbelievable. I knew she was powerful but this is even more than I can hope for. With her as a vessel, I can transcend time itself…" she trailed off, lost in the revelry of the potential evil she could displace. 

Seth glanced up at the woman next to him, perplexed at her changing demeanor. He wanted to ask her about it but the mention of Emerald's name only fuelled his desire to gain his retribution against Gabriel; the man that had taken the only person he ever loved away. 

"Jennifer," he said sharply. 

The dark beauty snapped her head towards him, her thoughts of destruction interrupted. She stared into the determined eyes of the man before her. 

"I apologize Seth. Now what was it…"

"Time travel," he said impatiently. "Or more specifically the effects one can have on the future timeline. Not on a grand scale, but more on an individual basis."

"Do you mean…"

Again he cut her off. "Say I want some payback for what Pops did to me. Will I go all Marty McFly…?

"And disappear?" She cut in with a smile. Seth couldn't help to smile back and for the umpteenth time he noticed the smooth succulent curves of her lips. He shook off the building reservoir of lust pushing forward and nodded. 

Jennifer could sense the burgeoning desire forming between them and she wanted nothing more than to give into it right now. It had been too long and she hadn't been with a man in a truly human body in ages, much less this one. It would be like her first time…_No that can wait_**, **she told herself. She wouldn't rush anything with her goal being so close to fruition. 

"No," she said simply. 

Several motions passed over Seth's face at her answer. Triumph and bloodlust mixed with fear and confusion that finally culminated in disbelief. 

"So what you're saying is that I can have a gay old time torturing my old man and not get the cosmic shaft, so to speak?" he couldn't hide the hope that crept into his voice. 

"You are correct."

"But how?" He stood and paced in front of her. "I mean, isn't that like rule number one of the time traveler's creed: Don't fuck with the past." 

Jennifer smirked at the vampire's less than refined attitude. Of course, that was the reason she found him so intriguing. 

"Well that's how it make work on television, but in the real world, it's completely different."

"How so?"

"Television assumes that when you travel through time, you remain a part of the original time stream. It's a logical assumption but an inaccurate one. What happens in reality is that you are totally dissociated from your originating timeline and supplanted into whichever one you currently occupy." 

"Just so you know," Seth said, taking the seat next to her, "I never was a fan of Star Trek. So, if you can dumb down the explanation just a tad."

She laughed softly at his candor. Folding her leg underneath her, Jennifer turned to the vampire and began again. "When you travel through a temporal gate, you are no longer part of that time. You become a part of the time that you are in. In your case now, instead of…" she waited for him to fill in the time gap. 

"Twenty-forty five. So what you're saying is that no matter what actions I take, nothing will affect my existence?" He was beginning to understand the slight nuance of it all. 

"Well, not exactly."

"What you do mean 'not exactly'? I thought you said…"

"I said," she cut in harshly, starting to get a bit annoyed, "that you will not be affected in this time. However, if you do travel back to your original time, whatever you altered in the past may very well alter your future self. Maybe even to the point of non-existence."

Seth leaned back in the chair, absently flexing his still-singed forearm. He had absorbed everything Jennifer had said and it was a lot to process. The ramifications of it all were unbelievable. If all this were true, he could deliver the fatal blow to Gabriel without lifting a single finger against him. It wasn't his ideal method for vengeance but sometimes you had to adapt. 

"So," he began cautiously, "what you're saying is that I can pretty much kill any and everything associated me, kill my old man before he even sprouts me and not be affected by the backlash. But, that only holds up if I stay here and not return to my own time. Am I right?"

"That about sums it up," she smiled.

In the blink of an eye, Seth was at the door. Jennifer was taken aback at how fast he could move. _Damn human body_**, **she thought. _Forgot the limitations I have in it._

"Where are you going?" She asked, walking to him. When he turned around, the human part of her cringed in fear at the maniacal glint in his eyes though the better part of her reveled in the evil that was in his stare. 

"Gonna recruit some more demons. Some real demons, not some piss-ant vamps." He walked over to her and cupped her cheek in his hand before ravaging her lips with his. She moaned into his mouth as his tongue violently probed her. Though his fear of her was abated, Jennifer could still taste the apprehension on him. His free hand cupped roughly at her most intimate parts and she squirmed from the combination of the pleasure and pain. As she felt the pleasure mount, Seth abruptly let go. He smiled at her desirous-laced scent and the flush of her cheeks. It was the first time that she had looked vulnerable in any way. This encouraged him and his thoughts for later in the night were filled with intimate details of a potential confrontation with a less than fully clothed Jennifer... 

Seth dropped his hands from her and walked through the door. He turned one more time and smiled at her. 

"I'm gonna change history," he said before disappearing into the night.

***

Disgusted, Seth threw the exsanguinated corpse to the ground on top of the other two bodies. Repressing his demon, he angrily wiped his bloodstained mouth with the back of his hand. He had stormed out of Jennifer's place in a relatively good mood. However, the lonely walk into the night was enough to sully his mood once more. Emerald's devotion to Gabriel was what prevented Seth from being with the only person he had ever loved in his entire miserable existence. And even if his plan worked and it wiped Gabriel from the face of existence, the memories would always be there. The things he had done with Emerald didn't mean nearly as much when thinking about her doing the same things with Gabriel. A part of Seth knew that it wasn't fair, that she had given him to Gabriel to save his life. She had made the greatest sacrifice for him and yet all he could see was Gabriel touching her, caressing her, fucking her.

He stalked through the empty streets, trying his best to quell the intimate visions of Emerald in the throes of passion with his sire. He had never thought at length about it all until now. The ten years since he had been turned had been spent caddying around the globe as Gabriel's right hand, creating order in chaos. The fact of the matter was that after he had first been turned, he rarely saw his goddess. 

__

What? Did you think she took an oath of chastity just because she couldn't have you anymore? His demon goaded. _Do you think you were that good? That she would never touch another man because you had spoiled her? _The borrowed blood in the vampire's veins bubbled in frustration at the truth and derisive tone of his inner voice. What _had _he expected? That they would be reunited and live happily ever after? 

_Get a grip, old boy, _Seth thought. One thing he had avoided his whole life on the streets was the notion of feeling sorry for himself. He was always surrounded with people having things he didn't but he never brooded about it. From an early age, he learned that you had to take what you wanted. And if it hurt someone else in the process? Fuck 'em. It had agreed with him yet now it was different. Not having anything from the start made it impossible to lose anything of value. But now, that he had a taste of happiness that his mind refused to let go of…well, it didn't sit too well with him that someone else was responsible for taking that away. 

And no one took anything away from Seth without suffering the consequences. He was Death's Head and he would mete out his revenge. 

His rant was halted when the tingling ran up his back. "What the fuck?" He whispered as he walked toward the disturbance. Seth peered down the alley that the vibes were coming from only to be greeted by shadowy forms scurrying about through the trash that littered the concrete. 

"Rats," he muttered but still couldn't take his mind off the weird sensation crawling over him. It wasn't unpleasant in the least but was more of an invitation of sorts. Deciding to further investigate, the vampire cautiously made his way into the alley and five steps later he passed through the barrier.

"Cool," he whispered. This was definitely a cloaked establishment. Seth had heard of them but this was his first time being in one. Gabriel had told him that such places were hidden as such to give demons shelters from slayers and other unsavory demon hunters. 

"This is a demon bar," the bartender shouted in disgust, "no half-breeds." Seth's surprise took a backseat to amusement at the slug-like creature's disdain. And the way the other patrons eyed him suspiciously and with various arrays of loathing, he knew the bartender wasn't the only one to share that sentiment. 

"What?" Seth asked in his most innocent voice, opening his arms in acceptance. "Do you guys have some sort of problem with vampires?" He watched several dozen sets of eyes narrow at him as a few of the larger demons rose and purposefully strode towards him. "Guess that answers my question," he muttered in sheer glee. _Finally a real challenge, _he thought as he eyed the three burly Jct'ar demons moving toward him. 

__

Now, how should I play this? Seth knew enough about Jct'ar demons not to take them for granted. Of course, they couldn't kill him but with their battering ram heads and pointed hooves…well, he didn't want to get too marked up before the big night at the Bronze coming up. 

"Vhgo now," the leader spoke in what Seth barely recognized as English. Jct'ar's weren't the greatest linguists in the world, rarely able to grasp more than a dozen words from a language other than their native tongue. That was odd in itself when Jct'ars themselves were highly intelligent. Well, at least the leader of a Triumph was. Speaking of Triumphs, Jct'ars always traveled in groups of five and since there were only three in front of him, then that must mean…

"Shit," he muttered under his breath. He had scarcely sensed the two Jct'ar's that rolled up behind him through the cloaked door. _Damn cloak, fuckin' with my senses, _he cursed. He sighed heavily, the plan already formed in his head. Though he wasn't worried about taking on a Triumph of Jct'ars, he was certain that he'd come out of the brawl unscathed especially when one considered Jct'ars were trained to fight as a team from an early age. Though they kept to themselves for the most part, not too keen on the carnage other demons reveled in; if provoked, however, they were an extremely unpleasant lot to deal with. 

Seth's smile broadened as a new idea spurned in his head. These Jct'ars were quite possibly just the things he was looking for. With the dispatch of Primal and his gang, he and Jennifer were lacking in the minion department. And with everything that was to go down in the next day or so, they'd need some backup. One slayer, he could handle, even two (of course little Ms. Faith would probably cower like a little lamb, as always). But throw in a vampire and two witches, one of whom had a potential that rivaled Gabriel…he had to admit that it would be a tall order even for him. 

"So, Gents, how's the drinking? Going down nice and smooth I hope. I mean, with all those nasty follicles in your esophagus, it's a small miracle that you can eat at all." All five demons snorted angrily while Seth only smirked. For reasons unknown to Seth, Jct'ars were a tad sensitive about their abhorrent appearance. _Hell, I guess I would be too, if I looked like them. _

"Okay, okay," Seth said backing up, his hands held up in peace. He stopped just short of backing into the two sentries behind him. He was in the perfect position to demonstrate his dominance if need be. 

"So I guess that'd be a 'no' to any sort of pleasantries. Fine. Not one for small talk myself." All joviality disappeared from the vampire's gait and his eyes narrowed, a glint of yellow dashed with green passing through them. 

"Here's the deal. You five…_things _do what I tell you to do," he smirked as they bristled with anger at his derogatory reference to them. "If you do that, I'll let you keep your dignity." 

The five demons laughed heartily. Evidently, their lack of linguistic speech did nothing to hinder their understanding of words. 

Seth merely smiled, forcing his muscles to relax. He knew it was pointless to talk as action spoke a hell of a lot louder than words. Still, he'd try one more time. 

"Well, I'm glad you think it's funny," He walked up to the leader and glared into the purple eyes of the seven foot tall beast as best he could. When he next spoke, his voice took on a tone that sent chills down the spine of the demons that were close enough to hear it. It was filled with the promise of pain and torture in ways even their demonic minds were unable to comprehend. 

"But will you think its funny when I rip those substandard horns out your skull and fuck you with 'em 'til you say you love me?" The laughter ceased immediately and the look of rage on the leader's face was priceless. Seth closed his eyes for a split second, tuning himself into their auras. _Won't do much good to kill them, now will it? _He knew they could take a beating but he also knew he had a habit of getting out of hand. 

"Vhfuck you!" the leader spat, craning his neck toward the vampire. It was just what Seth had been waiting for. 

With speed that even startled him, Seth sent an uppercut to the creature's windpipe, its most vulnerable area. The remaining four stared in amazement at their leader crumpled in disbelief. It took a second for them to react to their fallen leader but when they did, it was as a team. 

The Jct'ar closest to Seth let loose a primal roar before letting fly a hate-filled right cross that the vampire ducked easily. Unfortunately for Seth, the other Jct'ar facing him crashed its knee into the vampire's face. Momentarily dazed, Seth stumbled into the two demons at his back. His confusion was quickly eliminated as two hoofed claws ripped into his back. 

Seth howled as the pain coursed through him. It was quickly overshadowed by the anger that surged through him, raising his demon to the surface as the third Jct'ar connected with Seth's chin, sending the vampire's blood everywhere. 

The force of the blow sent the vampire careening into a nearby table, sending tatters of wood and alcohol into the air. Seth grimaced as a shard of the table impaled itself into his right leg. 

__

Well, guess falling into a piece of wood isn't the same as being staked, he thought, amusedly. With a quick twist and pull, the vampire ripped the splinter from his thigh and staggered to his feet. He felt the four demons at his back, waiting rather patiently. 

"Gotta hand it to ya, boys," he said, rising from the debris. "You really pack a punch." He stood to his full height, back turned to the Jct'ar. The rest of the bar however was in view of the downed vampire and they all gasped when they saw his face. Seth only smiled and whirled around toward his attackers. 

Despite their virtual fearlessness, the Jct'ar demons couldn't help but take a step back at the thing that stared back at them. The handsomely angular features of Seth had dissolved into a visage far more pronounced than the traditional vampire lumpies. 

Where his nose should have been jutted two horns that bisected his line of vision. The bones in his jaw looked to have shifted through the skin and clung tightly to his face not unlike a wild boar. Three rows of teeth snapped open and closed at them, blood congealing between the grooves as he slowly advanced on them. His skin had taken on a marble glean and his tattooed arms were lined with bony protrusions culminating in four inch talons. But as horrific as it all was his eyes were what had the blood of the demons running cold. 

Though they were little more than angry slits, the coldness and evil pouring from Seth's bright red/jaundiced yellow eyes was something that even a demon was loathe to face. There was an absence of everything remotely human or demon alike. It was akin to gazing into Hell itself. 

Craning his neck from side to side (mostly for effect) Seth smiled hideously at the four unnerved demons. Rarely did he ever change into his true nature, content on retaining his human features when feeding, something only a few vampires had ever been able to do. Not only was it more personal, but it also cut down on the mess as well as the pain associated with his bones rearranging. Thus, he never tired of the reaction his vampiric mask. 

"What?" he asked, arms spread in mock-exasperation, "haven't you guys seen a vampire before?"

"Vd'sua'ta," the closest Jct'ar whispered, its husky voice tinged with apprehension. Their once steely resolve threatened to buckle under the gaze of evil incarnate before them. 

Seth figured that their paralysis meant one of two things. Either they would attack him in frenzy and he would have to kill them, or they would bow in supplication to him. He sighed. Neither option was acceptable since he did need them for the ritual and at the same time he was in a fighting mood. So, being the problem-solver that he was, Seth did the only sensible thing; he attacked. 

Reigning in his claws, Seth slammed his fist into the face of the nearest Jct'ar, shattering its jaw. It flew back into the bar and slumped to the ground, unconscious. The remaining three reacted instantly. The blond vampire absorbed the brunt of a kick with his arm but a second kick connected with his rib, staggering him back. The third attacker took that moment to charge, its curved horns glistening in the faint light. Regaining his composure, Seth took the charge head-on, grabbing the Jct'ar's horns and hoisting it through the air and into the wall where it slid to the floor, out. 

"Thought you fuckers'd be tougher than that," Seth taunted, massaging his cracked ribs. In truth, he was surprised that in less than sixty seconds he had effectively neutralized three Jct'ars while not sustaining any major injuries. "Either you guys aren't as tough as advertised or I'm just wicked cool." He folded his arms and the bony protrusions that were his eyebrows furrowed in debate. "No, definitely the latter."

The final two Jct'ars roared before charging simultaneously. Seth feinted to the left, effectively cutting off any chance of being surrounded. He shot out a left that the demon parried but quickly followed it with a right backhand to its face and brought his left back around, only this time it connected, sending the beast spinning to the floor. 

Taking advantage of the distraction, the last Jct'ar hoisted its brutish arms around the off-balance vampire, lifting him into a crushing bear hug. Even with his strength, Seth couldn't help but to cry out as the Jct'ar's iron grip constricted around him. He knew it couldn't kill him, but it could still do a lot of damage and the vampire wasn't about to let that happen. 

Using his free hands, Seth drove his fists to either side of the demon's head. He felt its knees buckle but it refused to relinquish its grip. So he drove his fists into it for a second time. Then a third. And a fourth. Finally on the fifth succession of blows, the Jct'ar's grip loosened and Seth felt the ground under his feet. Sliding his hands to his sides, the vampire broke the tenuous grip. The demon staggered backwards, barely able to stand and Seth steadied braced his hands against its massive biceps. 

"Well, I did tell you guys I was all about letting you maintain your dignity," he admonished, his face slipping back into its handsome visage. But he wasn't done just yet. Rearing his knee back, Seth drove it into the sternum of the Jct'ar which gasped before falling to its face in a heap. An elbow strike to the demon's bowed head was the final blow that ushered it too into unconsciousness. 

Sighing, the vampire sauntered over to the leader, who was just now waking from the voidless realm of unconsciousness. Kneeling down towards the helpless demon, Seth wrapped his hand around its throat, bringing the Jct'ar eye level. His unnatural blue eyes gazed into the dazed purple slits of the Jct'ar. 

"Now," he said in a void devoid of emotion but laced with the promise of retribution. "Do you understand what I meant earlier? About the dignity?" His eyes swept around the bar at the four unconscious demons and he noted the stunned looks on the face of the bar's other patrons. 

"Well, buddy, seems like all that dignity of yours is out the window. And I know you guys are all over that honor and dignity kick. And judging from your current situation, I mean, how many Triumphs have been bested by one lonely vampire?" Seth shook his head in disappointment before continuing. "I'm pretty sure you and your butt boys'll have a tough time garnering any respect in the demon world anymore. In actuality, I'd be doing you a favor if I just rip out those curly intestines of yours. Sure save you guys a lot of grief what with you being a mockery of the demon world and all." Abruptly, Seth's fingers slid from the Jct'ar's neck and it's arms shot out, balancing it on all fours. 

Seth stood, glaring down at the beaten demon in disgust. "But why would I make it that easy for you? Once word gets out…well, let's just say your Clan mates won't take to well to you and the four stooges disgracing their reputation." He crossed his arms over his chest, mindful of his rapidly healing wounds as a slight smirk touched the edge of his lips. "And from what I know about Jct'ars and how they treat their disgraced, I'd wager you'll be begging for death like a thirsty man craves water. But you'll never get it. They won't let you. They'll just pine away at you, with all those fancy pins and needles they like to use." Seth smiled wickedly as the Jct'ar's eyes bulged with fear, its throat constricted as it tried in vain to speak. 

Seth turned on his heels and headed for the exit. He stopped an instant before disappearing through the other side and threw the demon a look over his shoulder. 

"Of course, there is a way you could redeem yourselves in the eyes of everyone here and your clan. I mean, if you're bold enough to do it…" He trailed off, turning his head. The Jct'ar scrambled to its feet and rushed over to the vampire.

"Wvhuat?" it choked out. 

Seth slowly turned to face the demon, again looking it up and down before cracking another smile. "It's simple really. All I need you to do is kill somebody. I'd do it myself but…let's just say I'll be busy."

"Wfho?" The demon practically begged. It knew Seth was right and that when the other Jct'ars learned about this disgrace, death was the last thing these five would face. Thus, they would relent to any task presented by the vampire. 

"The slayer…"

***Review, review, review. Please, let me know what you think. Tell me how you like it. Suggestions are welcome. 

***Also, I also wrote a short fic. It's called 'Do What You Have to Do' based on a song by Sarah Mclachlan. I'd love reviews on that as well. 

***Chapter 27 is called _Union. _Jennifer explains to Seth about the ritual with Dawn. But first, they need to get rid of some sexual tension…


	27. Union

***Well, ff.net is back up. We finally can get back into the story with everyone's favorite villain. Yes, Seth is back!

CHAPTER 27

Jennifer was sprawled across her four-post bed, surrounded by red and crème colored pillows. The matching silk sheets clung to her naked flesh like a second skin and in their translucence left little to the imagination. Her hand casually ran up and down the smooth flesh between her breasts, patiently awaiting the return of Seth.

He had left two hours ago though he didn't say where and he seemed more than a little preoccupied with this Gabriel fellow. It was strange how his train of thought that had originally been centered on reclaiming his precious 'slayer' shifted to Dawn and now it was focused on his sire. Need less to say Jennifer found Seth to be more than a handful. 

But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

The exotic beauty smiled at the wicked thoughts that pervaded her mind. The way it felt when he kissed her, claiming her most intimate of areas for his own with a cup of the hand. The lust-filled glint in his eyes before he disappeared into the night held a promise of things to come. 

She smiled ruefully at the thought of him. It had been far too long since a being had peaked her curiosity like Seth. Not even the souled vampire's dichotomous existence was as of interest to her as Seth. Not only was she intrigued by the evil and potential for destruction he exuded but also the purely physical ardor that radiated from him. She loved his wiry arms, corded with muscles and lined in tattoos. His unnatural blue eyes glistened with a tint of green and were filled with life. The small stubble of black at the tip of his chin clashed expertly with his bleached locks. But most of all, it was his attitude that drew her close like a moth to a flame. They were kindred spirits, their wills offering supplication to no one. And although she had felt his fear upon their first encounter, his unease around her had subsided. 

__

Good, she thought as her delicate hand roamed further down her body. _Wouldn't do good to have a lover afraid of me, now would it? _Her skin sung at the gentle caresses of her fingertips. It had been well over five centuries since she had taken a human body. Though she had taken the very same form to torment the souled one, it was not flesh and blood. Now, she was incased in the fragile shell of humanity. Though she was prone on a lesser scale to the weaknesses of a human body, she was also in possession of the many sensations of pleasure that coursed through mortal pores. 

Closing her eyes, Jennifer caressed the supple mounds of her breasts. She gently squeezed the flesh while her fingers sought out and kneaded her erect nipples. There were definitely advantages to having a human body. 

After a few minutes, her wandering hands found the damp curls between her legs. She was taken aback by the moisture that had accumulated in such a short span of time but that didn't deter her from exploring this sacred place with more scrutiny. 

She expertly ran a thin finger along the folds of her lips, mindful of her true destination though she refused to go there just yet. There was still much to explore and the mounting ball of anticipation in the pit of her stomach (and other places) held promises of untold bliss if she just waited a little longer. Her free hand stroked the outside of her thigh, her middle finger trailing down the grove of her 'sprinter's muscle'. Her other hand was busy stroking her heated core until her patience cracked a little more and she plunged two fingers inside of her rich temple. She moaned in pleasure and her other hand instinctively cupped the sensual curve of her ass, imprinting crescent moons into her flesh from her nails. She continued to work her fingers in and out slowly before picking up pace until her thumb breezed across the ultimate treasure.

"Oh, god," she moaned as her thumb and two fingers worked in tandem with her other hand that had found solid purchase between the crevice of her ripe ass. Jennifer squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, the sensations in her body threatened to overwhelm her slight form. It was when her other fingers found her second opening that she screamed at the top of her lungs. 

"Seth!" she moaned, her thrashing body finally dismissing the sheets in totality. The air hitting her most sensitive areas only heightened the bliss and she shuddered involuntarily as the first wave crashed through her. The intensity was such that she could only growl incoherently at the budding flowers of pleasure sprouting throughout her lithe frame. Her hand was covered in her own nectar and Jennifer wanted so badly to taste it but was unwilling to remove her fingers from inside her, even for a single moment of oral fascination. 

"Mmmm," she rumbled as a second inundation of physical gratification was fast approaching. But she would not accomplish her task as two cold hands seized her wrists and hoisted them above her head. 

Her eyes shot open in surprise at the intrusion until she caught a glimpse of the perpetrator. 

"Starting without me," Seth asked huskily. He had watched her for the last two minutes unabated as the moon shone through the curtains and highlighted her bronze flesh. It wasn't until she had kicked the covers off completely that his resolve had broken. He had undressed quietly but with the preternatural speed of a vampire and silently crept from his place in the shadows to the bed. He had waited until she was about to ride her second crest to orgasm before he acted. As it was now, Seth straddled her thighs; his erection sandwiched against his cold abs and the blisteringly hot mound of her sex. Her obsidian eyes were drunk with desire as they trailed a path down the length of his sinewy flesh to the cool member that pressed so eagerly against her. 

"Looks like someone's glad to see me," she purred before lifting her hips and grounding them into his manhood. 

Seth clinched his teeth, refusing to rise--well, any more than he already had--to her baiting him. He had to be in control, period. It has always been like that and he wasn't about to change. Only Emerald had had the power to change his ways and though this woman before him was spectacular in her own right, reminding him in some ways of his long gone love Seth refused to allow her to tame him.

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked, attempting to spread her legs but he had them trapped between his deceivingly powerful thighs. 

The hunger continued to build in Seth as Jennifer's arched eyebrow raised in invitation. "You knew I was there." It wasn't a question. "And here I thought that I was the one surprising you." He squeezed her wrists a little harder and Jennifer moaned at the slightly painful grip but her lascivious smile never faded. 

"I'll always know when you're around," she cooed, snaking her tongue out. Seth stared at its tip as it beckoned him to her moist lips. She retracted her tongue and again took the opportunity to push her hips into his, eliciting a predatory growl from his throat. Seth's control was slipping and Jennifer knew it. She gave him one final sultry look before seductively biting down on her lower lip. That was when he lost it. 

Seth plundered the inviting lips of the exotic beauty, pressing his entire weight against her. Jennifer gasped into his mouth but he did not relent his tongue's assault on her mouth. His legs, however, managed to slip between her slick thighs and nudged them apart, his cold, stiff shaft pressed at the throbbing entrance to her sex. 

Jennifer's breaths came in overwhelming gasps as the simple feel of his cold, hard body against her soft and delicate figure was almost enough to drive her over the edge. Seth had released his grip on her arms and his hands greedily explored her soft curves. Free to do as she wished now, Jennifer desperately clung to him, her nails dug into the corded muscles of his back as they shifted back and forth underneath her palms. She hooked her right leg around his waist and her heel dug into his buttock, urging him to enter her awaiting embrace. 

"I need you inside me," she forced out between breaths while Seth returned her plea with grunts of anticipation before impaling her with his ample shaft. 

Jennifer screamed as his thrust tore into her virgin flesh. Her thighs quivered and for several agonizingly powerful thrusts, she could feel nothing but the pain of being ripped open. She wasn't aware of the blood that congealed around her nails where they had pierced the vampire's skin and Seth, too, was oblivious of the injuries. His purpose was one-dimensional now; to tear into this beautiful woman with all the rage, frustration, pain, desire and love he had experienced throughout his life and though he knew she was human, part of him knew that by some miracle she would survive his ravaging onslaught. 

After the first minutes of excruciating torture, the pain in Jennifer's extremities slowly transformed into welcoming pangs of pleasure. The mixture of it, the agony and the ecstasy was wonderful and she cursed herself for never doing this earlier. Taking a vampire lover in a human shell was beyond any physical sensations she had ever experienced. If not for her true aura that strengthened this vessel, she knew that survival of this rambunctious onslaught of her womanhood would have resulted quite possibly in her death. 

Seth was more than surprised when he rammed himself into Jennifer's tender flesh. Though she smelled human, there was also a much deeper, much more evil sense about her. Never would he have thought his penetration would be her first. _Just like Faith, _he thought and smiled as he relentlessly sucked the flesh just above her jugular. He had remembered the first night he had been with Faith and how she had cried when he told her what he was going to do. He had toyed with her for hours, brushing his erection against every part of the terrified slayer until the final penetration. It was because of that he had broken her and what had aroused him even further during those nine months was that each time he used her, she cried like that first time. He had felt a grain of disgust at his actions but the demon within him reveled in her fear and degradation and sex. But most of all it was enamored with the orgasm that rocked both him and it when he came inside her and simultaneously sank his teeth into her sacred flesh. The blood of a slayer was indeed a powerful aphrodisiac. Only his experiences with Emerald had been better than his constant violation of the slayer. 

__

Although this is not far behind, he thought as he rammed his shaft deeper into Jennifer's core. Though she lacked the slayer muscles to clinch around his swollen cock, there was a power in Jennifer that drew out his baser instincts unlike any other. It was to the point where his actions were almost completely animalistic, filled only with unintelligible grunts and groans.

By now the pain had subsided to a dull ache as her modified form adjusted to Seth's intimate invasion. It had been so severe at one point that she was sure that her second orgasm had come and gone. Now, as she felt the stirrings of another pleasure-filled release, she spread her thighs even further and was thrown into a fit of unheralded passion as Seth's strokes delved even further into her core while his fingers simultaneously explored her equally erect nipples and clit. 

"God, Seth," she cried. "Fuck me, please, fuck me." She raised her bloodstained hands over her head in supplication and her breasts stretched out, highlighting her burgeoning nipples even further. She smiled at the purely savage gaze of lust that marked Seth's face as he studied her twin-peaks before he enveloped the right breast greedily. 

"Shit, yes!" she screamed as Seth suckled her nipple as if it was his only remaining connection to life. The constant pounding into her flesh had slowed to a dull hum as he ground instead of pumped into her. The friction against her clit was even greater this way and his now free hands again clasped her thin wrists while she circled her hips first clockwise then counterclockwise, with his masterful gyrations.

Seth couldn't quite fix his mind on the contradictory sensations that overtook his body and mind as Jennifer's walls shivered as he motioned inside her. She was both unique and eerily familiar, as if pieces of a previous encounter continuously danced at the corners of his vision, refusing to be seen head-on but quite discernable from the peripheral. She was soft and hard, delicate yet primal, equally innocent and vilely corrupt. The nagging parts of his brain that were able to function worked furiously at the familiarity of not her body, but the essence of her sex that permeated between them.

All thoughts were lost however as Jennifer's blunt teeth tore into his chest. He growled as his borrowed fluid seeped into her hungry mouth and his body ceased its urgent motions. When she pulled her lips from his flesh, her mouth was covered in the life giving fluid and her lips curled into an inviting smile. He knew what she was urging but he wanted to hear the words. Emerald had been the only person that had willingly allowed him to feed from her and he had demanded that she also say the words. 

"Say it," he growled, clinging to his demon's nearly overpowering impulse to bite into her flesh now, consent be damned. 

Jennifer knew what she wanted him to do as well as what he wanted her to say. But she wasn't going to give it up that easily. She smiled coyly at him, mustering whatever vestiges of innocence she could, taunting him viciously. 

"Say what?" she asked and was rewarded with a wrenching of her arms even further over her head. Seth didn't waste time as he drove his engorged cock violently against Jennifer's already bruised pelvis. 

"Say it," he demanded again and punctuated the demand with a particularly fierce thrust into her. He couldn't contain his release much longer and by the sinister glint in her eyes, she knew it too. He glared at her murderously but couldn't quite contain the pleading in his eyes. It wasn't just for the physical pleasure of the moment but her acceptance of him. Not just the man but the demon within whose sole purpose was the destruction of life without pity, without remorse. It was odd to say the least, but the human part of Seth only desired to be wanted and loved. He had found that with Emerald though it didn't last and a small part of him wondered if he could find it in this woman who had, for the first time since he was sired, sent a twinge of fear down his back. Even his demon reveled at the chance to be with a kindred spirit and the vibes that emanated from this exotic beauty gave it reason to believe that she, indeed, could be the one. 

Despite being on the edge of nearly unbearable orgasmic pleasure, Jennifer could still discern the conflict waging in the man/demon on top of her. In its basest form, the demon would be content to drain her dry, leaving an emaciated corpse. But she had known and studied demons behavior for millennia and understood that on top of their baser proclivity toward destruction demons only wished to garner their own niche in the world. In that way, they were not much different than the humans they shared the world with and whatever humanity that was left of Seth only amplified his desire to belong. In that instant, Jennifer knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that, if she could, she would always be there for him as lover and companion. 

"Drink from me, Seth," she whispered and couldn't helped but be touched at the way Seth's expression softened before he buried his face in her neck. The feeling was like none she had ever experienced and she shuddered as he resumed his timely strokes inside of her, the sensations too much. 

"Seth!" Jennifer screamed at the top of her lungs as two successive orgasms, equally powerful, rocked her slight form. She reached heights of bliss she had never thought possible and for the second time tonight, she praised the advantages of human flesh. 

As soon as his fangs broke the skin, Seth felt Jennifer jerk underneath him. He drank slowly from her and slid in and out of her with the same languid strength. Her blood was rich and awe-inspiring. The humanity of her physical form was tainted by something very old and very powerful and for a moment he again feared her. But as she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, all reservations disappeared and he pumped into her with a greater urgency until they both tumbled into the waters of unheralded pleasure. His cold seed burst into her warm core for untold minutes until the strength was drained from his limbs and he collapsed onto her splayed form. 

"God," she panted, out of breath and covered with a glistening sheen of sweat. Her body shook uncontrollably as the aftershocks continued to bubble to the surface. Though she couldn't see it, Jennifer knew the wound on her neck had already closed. _Thanks to the wonders of being the First, _she thought. She groaned when Seth pulled out of her and flopped on his back next to her. The dull ache between her thighs was a touch more than that now and she knew it would take an hour before she would walk properly. The thought of it caused her to burst into uncontrollable giggles. 

"What?" Seth asked as he turned on his side and propped himself up on a weary arm. His free hand caressed the tender flesh of her stomach and he couldn't help but be amazed at the tenderness this woman exuded from him; something he had though he had lost long ago. It was frightening though he would never admit it. 

"It's just that…" she burst into another fit of giggles and tears of laughter squeezed out the corners of her eyes. 

"What?" he asked again, a bemused smile touching his lips. 

"Well, here I am, The First of pretty much all Evil and I can't stand because of that blistering shag," she laughed again and ran her fingers through his tangled hair. 

"Shag? I thought only Brits used that term," he replied absently. There was no thought behind his words as his hand was too busy swimming through her hair while his eyes drank up the erotic sight of her naked body. He was awestruck at her beauty. Even if there wasn't a magnetic attraction between them, Seth was almost certain he would have wanted her anyway. 

He spent the next few minutes marveling her curves as his hand traced along the side of her body. Her skin was so smooth, so delicate. And yet she had taken everything that he had given to her without breaking. Since his existence in the un-life, he had never been with a human without breaking her. 

"What are you?" he asked, his eyes still transfixed on the subtle shifts of her muscles. It had been the second time she had referred to herself as 'The First' and Seth knew there was much more to her than he knew. 

Jennifer was lost in Seth's eyes, her body shivering as his fingertips glided effortlessly across her skin. It was incomprehensible that a cool touch such as his lit a fire so deep within her that had nothing to do with her passion for destruction. That latter part, though fascinated by his power and grace in the bar earlier was overshadowed by the human part of her that was inexplicably drawn to Seth on a far deeper level. Roaming the earth and between realms for eons was still not enough for her to put into words or even coherent thoughts what she actually felt for him. The humanity within her accepted it all as love at first sight, or something equally mundane. But she knew better than that. This was something cosmic, something that, as ridiculous as it sounded to her, was beyond her comprehension. But even she, The First, was limited into her understanding of the universe. 

"What am I?" she reiterated as she stroked the side of his face. Even with its budding garden of stubble, his skin still held the selfsame smoothness as his chest and arms. She shuddered at the brief vision of how he had looked on top of her before filing it away for later. 

"I didn't mean it like that," he backtracked sheepishly. Seth shook his head in disgust that he had been eager to set the record straight. What did he care if he hurt her feelings? Since when did he care about anyone but himself? _Since Emerald, _a voice in the back of his head replied flatly, effectively eliminating any inclinations toward indignation.

Taking an unneeded breath, he started again. "I mean, you can't be human," he chuckled, "unless you've got some sort of super secret thigh master that's not sold in stores 'cause baby, I gave you all I got and all you are is a bit sore?" He glared down the length of her body, a glint of lust glazing over his blue eyes. " 'Course, I'm not complaining in the least. 'S just that I can feel that you're human. Your taste, the way sweat beads against your skin, your scent. All of it is 100% human. But your aura…" he shook his head in exasperation. "When I first sat in front of you at the bar, the demon part of me was scared shitless," he admitted, never once feeling ashamed. "Now, though, it's like I never was afraid. I mean there's a lingering sensation of…I don't know, apprehension maybe? But it's different. More like a deep sense of respect and I don't know why. It's like my demon knows this…thing…about you that I can't consciously grasp." 

Seth closed his eyes, rolled over to his back, and clasped his hands behind his head. Truth was, despite the wonderful 'shag', as she put it, they had just had, he was utterly frustrated about not knowing. Something he couldn't quite place tickled at the forefront of his thoughts, only to retreat when he attempted to reel it in. Usually, things like this never bothered him since 'Can't figure it out, might as well destroy it' was his motto. But this, this thing with Jennifer refused to be put to bed so easily. For one, he didn't want to kill her, not to mention the fact that he wasn't all too sure that he could. That was a whole other mystery on the long list of questions that took purchase in his mind.

Jennifer snorted unpleasantly at the loss of contact when Seth had switched positions. She propped up on one elbow and studied his chiseled form. The moonlight glinted off his chest, highlighting every sharp cut and smooth angle. His stomach muscles looked as if they were painted on, far too defined to be anything but. Angry bruises lined his ribs and Jennifer ran her hand just above them, careful not to touch. _Someone was busy tonight, _she thought as her eyes traveled further down when a dull glow caught her attention. What was that? _Sure as hell isn't a bruise._ Trying to remain inconspicuous, Jennifer scooted further down as if to snuggle but never quite pulling herself to him. From this new perspective, she could make out a slight discoloration of the skin that appeared to be some sort of burn. 

"Like what you see?" he asked neutrally. The dark-haired woman jumped at his voice cutting through the silence, her hand automatically reaching to her breast. 

"What?" she asked unsteadily. 

"I said 'like what you see?'" Seth craned his neck to the side just enough to catch her eyes into his. He laughed humorously at her face. "You know, the deer-in-headlights look is so you," he glanced up at the sky's sentinel as it watched them before turning back to her. "Complete with said headlights." She chuckled softly at his barb. She had been caught. An ageless entity caught sneaking a peak at her lover's scars and feigns ignorance. It was too 'movie of the week' for her. 

"What' that?" she asked and ran her hand lightly across his ribs and down to the offending spot. 

"Nothing. Just ran into some Jct'ar demons. Took care of 'em, recruited them actually," he said and reached over to touch his still tender ribs. "When those fuckers hit you, you know." He twisted slightly, testing the extent of his injuries. In all honesty, he had totally forgotten about them. Well, seeing a very nude and very beautiful woman pleasuring herself, all the while screaming your name had a way of doing that. But now that he was aware of them, they still hurt like a son of a bitch. "Shit. Ribs haven't totally healed yet."

Jennifer slid down his body and ran her tongue along the outline of Seth's ribs, causing him to shiver in equal amounts of joy and discomfort. She left a trail of butterfly kisses the length of his upper body before nestling into the crook in his arm. 

"Better?" She purred into his skin. 

"Oh yeah," he sighed and sensed the familiar increase of blood flow to a particularly sensitive spot on his body. 

"Good," she kissed him on the nipple before turning her obsidian eyes to him, "but I wasn't talking about the bruises."

"Oh," he said. His eyebrows scrunched for a moment before he realized what she was referring to. "Oh," he repeated softly. 

"So?"

"Nothing," he said after an unneeded breath, "just got burned is all. You know how we vampires are when it comes to fire; don't always heal quite right. Damn lucky it wasn't my face, you know. Many a women would have cried if any part of this beautiful profile was singed."

"Fire, huh?" 

"Yep."

"That's really interesting, because from here," she placed her hand against it, "it looks like a handprint. And that glow it gives off looks very similar to the cute little tattoo the slayer's little sis left on your forearm."

Seth closed his eyes and sighed. He was doing an awful lot of unnecessary breathing but things were just spiraling around in his head. He looked down at the tousled black hair of his lover and snaked his arm around her shoulders. He brought her closer to him and unconsciously planted a kiss on the top of her head. It was routine gesture made after every lovemaking session between he and Emerald yet Seth failed to realize the parallel. 

"Emerald," he whispered. 

"What was that?"

"Emerald. She did it to me." He brushed his left hand absently against the scar perched atop his left brow. "This too. Fact is she did a lot of things to me. Not that they were bad or anything although this," he motioned to the burn under his ribcage, "hurt like a mofo." Seth looked down when he felt a rumbling against his chest which, by happenstance, coincided where Jennifer's face was currently positioned. 

"What?" he asked curtly. He wasn't used to people laughing at him, especially not in the bedroom. Only Emerald had ever…

He cut off any thoughts of his once goddess and focused on the beautiful…woman, for lack of a better term, giggling into his skin. 

"Sorry," she said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "It's just that 'hurt like a mofo' thing. I mean that was so not 'Big Bad'." She giggled again but sobered up quickly as she reflected on her word choice. _That was definitely not active speak in my vocabulary, _she thought shrilly. _Oh my…_she bolted up in the bed much to the chagrin of the more than relaxed vampire by her side. 

"Jennifer?" he pried and sat up with her. "What's up?" She ignored his pleas and ran two shaky hands through her raven hair. 

"It's happening. It's happening already." She was speaking more to herself than anything and Seth knew it. Taking the initiative, he grabbed her forcefully by the shoulders, allowing his hard stare express his urgency. 

"Jennifer," he said coolly, though there was an unmistakable warning in the tone. "What is going on?"

The dark beauty heard the warning in Seth's tone but also detected a trace of apprehension. _He really cares, _she thought and for a moment forgot about the events already set into motion. As quickly as her thoughts of his sincerity surfaced, they passed and she was now in focus. 

"Seth," she said. The vampire knew that his lover was back in control of her faculties and released his grip. 

"Yeah?"

"You said Emerald did this to you," she set her right hand over the scar and noticed that it was a fraction smaller than her hands. _But not the child's. _

"Yeah," he chuckled at the memory of it. His undead heart lurched as he remembered the tender look in her eyes when she touched him…

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"What are you doing, baby?" Seth asked as he lover's petite hands roamed across his naked body. "I mean, not like I mind or anything. But you have been at this for some time…"

"Like five minutes," she said and rolled her eyes for good measure, never deviating from her search. 

"Well yeah. But you haven't once tried to cop a feel. Makes me wonder if you're losing interest," he said half-jokingly though a part of him was bitterly afraid of just that. They had only been together four months and already he was whipped. Last night had been the first time he had told her he loved her. Her face had lit up when he had said it and she made love to him with a fervor even he had trouble keeping up with. The last ten hours had been spent in the same fashion and though she didn't say those three words back to him, her actions spoke louder than any words. Still, a part of him was unsure. 

"Seth, look at me," she commanded and one of her hands cupped his cheek. He obeyed, of course, mesmerized by the power of her voice. There were times, though he'd never admit it aloud, that she scared him. There was something about her, aside from her power, something dark and ancient that shook his very core. But he always tucked those thoughts away as he did now. 

"I know you love me, Seth. And I care about you, more than I've ever cared about anyone. Even my…"

"Even your what?"

She waved her hand casually, dismissing the statement. "The point is, that I don't know how a ruffian like you got my attention," she playfully jabbed him in the ribs, "but you did. And I am glad for that."

"Me too. God knows I don't deserve this. Happiness, I mean. And I sure as hell don't deserve you."

"Why do you say that?" she asked, truly curious. 

"C'mon, Em. You know all about me. I've lost count to how many people I've hurt. Men and women alike. And you know what I've done to some of those women…" he trailed off and for the first time felt truly ashamed. 

"Seth, I'm not gonna lie. The stuff you have done has been atrocious," she cringed as the flesh around his eyes tensed as if expecting a blow. She was thrown sometimes by how insecure the man before her could really be. He talked a good game and, for the most part, backed it up. But then there were times like this, with her, when he was an open book to her. He was so much like Sp…like her once best friend it was scary. 

"But," she continued, "there are things that I have done that makes you look like the Son of God himself." Seth scoffed at the remark in disbelief but she continued. "There are things, Seth, things that you don't know about me. And I hope that when you find out, when I get the courage to tell you, that you won't be sickened by the sight of me."

At this Seth laughed heartily, head tilted to the ceiling. Emerald only smiled at his mirth and her own insecurities. Here she was, an ageless entity being ruled by the emotions of the human body she inhabited. It was horrible yet tragically wonderful at the same time. 

"Em," he said, finally regaining his composure, "there is nothing that you could do to make me not want to look at you."

"You sure?" she asked and gazed upon him with her obsidian jewels. 

Seth brought her to him and kissed her fully on the lips. "Yes, I'm sure. Now what's say we start round number four…" he suggested and rained kisses upon her bare neck. 

"Seth…" she said, almost succumbing to desire before gently pushing him away. 

"What's wrong?" the confusion and frustration fought for dominance in his chocolate eyes. 

"Just be patient for a few more minutes," she said and resumed her search across his body. She loved the feel of his taut muscles under her palms. It was incredible to her how a man with such hard muscles was covered with the most velvety skin, growing up on the streets no less. It was as much a mystery to her as her reasons for giving him this gift she had bestowed only on one other individual…

Her thoughts ceased as she located the spot. Just below his ribcage the energy necessary thrummed and Emerald smiled excitedly. 

"According to the Bible, it was here that God removed the rib from Adam to create Eve."

"Not much for the 'Good Book', honey. 'Specially since I won't be flitting with the angels. Probably got a good spot in Hell reserved just for me." Emerald cringed at his candor but as brazen as it was, his words rang true. Seth was not one whose path would take him toward eternal peace. All that awaited him was death and eternal torment and despite who she was, what she was, the thought of her lover suffering for eternity touched her in an indescribable way. **This is why I'm giving him the gift, **she thought to herself. **But if I do, the only way it will be complete is if his body is immortal, **and it was then that she knew that if she wanted him to live forever, she would have to give him up. 

"Seth," she said guardedly, controlling the lilt of her voice, "I want to give you something. A part of me that will forever stay with you and protect you from things far beyond your scope."

Seth gauged his lover warily. Though her voice seemed natural, something was off about it. That and the way she refused to look him in the eyes. She was hiding something big yet he didn't know what that was. 

"What is it, baby?" he encouraged despite his reservations. She glanced up at him, he saw the watery film covering her eyes, and his first reaction was to soothe her fears, whatever they were. But another part of him stayed his desires and waited for her to act. 

"Did you know Adam and Eve's third son's name was Seth?"

"Well now I do," he smirked, trying to lighten the mood. 

"In a way, you're my third, you know? I mean from both sides of the equation. I mean, my dad was first of course. Then Spike and now you," she reminisced at the men she had truly loved. "I mean there was Giles, but he kinda took the place of Dad."

"Em, what are you talking about?" Seth asked. He had no idea where this was heading and she seemed to be lost in her own world. 

"Then on the other side of things, I gave Him the gift. Tried to give it to Angel but I guess he had a higher calling," she rolled her eyes before they focused on Seth. "But you…you are just what I want. You have heart and a power within you dying to get out." Her left hand caressed the side of his face while her right hand stealthily found purchase just under his ribcage. 

"I love you Seth," she said and poured every bit of emotion into her lips as she assaulted him with a deep, probing kiss. 

Finally, she pulled away and saw the glaze of tears covering his eyes and she was again amazed at this creature before her, ready to cry over three small words. 

"I love you, too Em," he said, tucking a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.

"I know. And you know that I'd never purposely hurt you. But if I did, you know I'm doing it all for you." She studied his eyes intently before understanding registered in his brown pools. He closed them slowly before speaking again. 

"I'll always forgive you," he said and Emerald took that as the signal. 

Closing her eyes, she summoned the powers of the Darkness of the First and the Light of the Key and ushered them to the surface. The air crackled as green bursts of light bathed the room and its two occupants with unfathomable energy. It was a power of born of time and infinity, of death and life, of hate and love, of discord and harmony, mistrust and trust, and of two souls, one as almost as old as existence, the other not even a blink on the cosmic scale, joining as one. 

_Emerald focused her mind and the heat radiated from her in untold waves. Finally, though, she felt the concentration of power travel down her right shoulder and to her palm that rested lightly against Seth's unmarked flesh. She stiffened as it shot through her and an inhuman scream pierced the air. _

Surprisingly, it was completed as quickly as it had begun; though to the two people that lay spent in the bed, it had lasted an eternity. 

"What…what did you do to me?" Seth asked breathlessly. His body was numb save for the pulsating agony in his side. It throbbed with an intensity that was even greater than the time Emerald had healed him four months ago. 

"Your gift," she managed. She was even weaker than him and found herself traveling the familiar road of unconsciousness. 

"My gift?" he asked incredulously. "If you wanted to cause me this much fuckin' pain, you could've just shot me and done your healing mojo again. Shit."

"Seth, I did this for you. One day you will understand. This," she said and gently touched the singed flesh but pulled back when he winced, swearing under his breath. "This, will always connect us. As long as I live, so shall you. It is what will forever join us…

"In past. In present. In future," Jennifer said interrupting Seth's thoughts of the future past. 

"What did you say?" he asked with a hint of rage in his voice. They had been his memories and his alone. How had she…

"Relax. I didn't read your mind. I don't know what it is about you that prevents it but I can't read them. Oh, I can detect your moods and emotions, but no coherent thoughts." Seth visibly relaxed at her words only to tense up almost immediately. 

"Well, that's really funny that you knew what the hell I was just thinking. And you say you weren't reading my mind," the sarcasm was overshadowed by the venom dripping from his every word. 

"Will you shut up," Jennifer spat, her anger getting the best of her. She felt the dark cloud within her stir but kept it at bay. She didn't want to lose it over something so ridiculous, especially since she still needed her body to complete the ritual. 

The silence ticked away until Seth broke through it. "So, how did you know? What I was thinking?" His tone was smooth and in control. 

"You really don't make it too hard to accomplish. You really should keep a reign on your feelings, 'Luke'. They'll only lead you to the Darkside," she quipped and they both laughed softly. 

Seth was the first to sober and turned away, his eyes focused on the sprawled web of sheets around them. He inhaled sharply but didn't blow the breath out. "It was the same thing she said to me," he said and Jennifer had to strain to make it out. 

"Said what?" she asked leaning forward. 

"That thing about this," he pointed to his side, "would connect us in the past, the present and the future," he snorted humorlessly. "Funny thing is, I still don't know what the hell she was talking about."

"I do," Jennifer replied, gazing into his all-too blue oceanic eyes. 

"How is that?" he asked and cocked his head to the side. 

"Because I'm her," she said simply. The transformation in Seth's body language was apparent. First, he stiffened unnaturally before almost slinking into his predator-like stance. 

"What. Did. You. Say?" He asked. He couldn't have heard what he thought he did. _She couldn't have, _he thought. _She wouldn't have._

"I said, I know what Emerald said to you because I'm her. I'm Emerald." 

***Well, for those of you who are like 'huh', everything will be answered in due time: trust me. 

***The next chapter, "_The Beauty of it All" _gives us a peak into the Summers/Spike family. It's not a flashback but just a hint of the possibilities. Later in the chapter, Buffy and Spike discuss things further. 

***Chapter 29, _"Atlas Reprieved" _has a weight lifted from one of our characters. 

***Chapter 30, _"Pieces of the Same Puzzle", _Jennifer reveals (finally!!) her plan. 

***Chapter 31, _"Dawn of a New Day" _will give you a glimpse into the lives of everyone before the new day begins. This will be the last chapter of Part I. I will divide the next chapters into _Family Ties-II. _It's not a sequel but I wanted to break things up because I have so much more to write and didn't want to put up what quite possibly could become 45-50 chapters. 

***Please leave reviews or email me your suggestions or both. d_jasper77@hotmail.com


	28. The Beauty of it All

***Got some Buffy & Spike talk for ya. 

CHAPTER 28

Two hours alone in the backyard with only a few stars and numerous insects as unwilling companions was enough to drive Spike back into Casa de Summers. Taking one last look at the partially visible blackness of space, the vampire wheeled around and bounded gracefully up the steps. 

Mindful of the time of night, he gingerly closed the door, making sure to lock it, in the unlikely event that they were paid another unexpected visit by a vampire that didn't require a personal invite. He walked silently through the kitchen and listened at the entrance of the living room for signs of life. He heard the distinct pattern of two different heartbeats as well as the deep breathing of the same individuals. He crept into the room quietly and what he witnessed stirred his undead heart like nothing ever had. 

Before him just in front of the couch bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, was Faith, curled in a ball. She slept on her side, her thin arms crossed over her chest, knees drawn to her elbows. Her head rested comfortably on the stomach of an exhausted slayer. Buffy's legs were crossed at the ankles and her right arm was draped protectively around Faith's shoulders while her other hand rested gently on the young woman's head. A true look of peace was etched upon the two women's nearly identical features and it was all that he could do not to cry at the beauty of it all. 

His heart heavy with joy, the vampire addled over to the two women and sat cross-legged at their feet, marveling at the completeness of the scene. It was in this moment that he wished to die. Not out of grief, heartache, or apathy of his all-too-complicated un-life, but to catch glimpse of such a perfect memory was fleeting for him at best and why not die when he was at the pinnacle of his existence? It was doubtful that life would get any better for the likes of him. 

Raising his knees to his chest and encircling his legs with his arms, Spike cocked his head to the side and studied the rise and fall of the two young women. They looked so peaceful and radiant, as if they were untouchable by the ills of the world. The things they had gone through were too much for women who had yet to reach their twenty-fourth birthday. _If only I could take their pain away, _he thought to himself and wiped at his eyes, refusing to tear up at the scene before him. 

Spike didn't know how long he sat there, watching the subtleties of the two women in their sleep but the next thing he knew the warm sensation of familiar lips against his cool skin awakened him from the realms of a dreamless sleep. 

"Morning, Mr. Undead Guy," Buffy cooed sleepily. Spike forced his eyes open and was greeted by the sight of his beautiful slayer, crouched in front of him. 

"Hey, luv," he answered. Glancing around the room, he noticed the lights were off and that it was still dark outside. "How long 'ave I been out?"

"About twenty minutes, I guess," she replied and sat next to him. She sleepily lay her head against his shoulder and Spike automatically snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a protective embrace. The silence stretched between them, though it was not strained. Rather it was similar to the silent walk they shared back from his crypt a few hours ago. Finally, the peaceful quiet was interrupted by the hushed voice of Buffy. 

"So, where'd you go?" 

"Luv?"

"When you left earlier, where'd you go? I know Tara went out after you and all, but I didn't think she found you. At least she didn't say anything about it." She risked a glance up at the platinum blond and was rewarded by an unreadable mask. 

"Didn't go nowhere, luv. Had a few smokes out back with the Tink is all," he said matter-of-factly, desperately resisting the memories that had plagued him. 

The look on Dawn's face before he was thrown from the tower. 

Buffy's crumbled body as the sun outlined her face-beautiful even in death. 

The realization that being with him was killing Buffy. 

Knowing that he was responsible for them not getting back in time to help Dawn…

_"It's not your fault," _Tara had said. But wasn't it? Hadn't he promised Buffy he'd protect the Niblet 'til the end of the world? Funny, that in the span of nine months he had welshed on that promise _twice _already, not quite the dependability Buffy was counting on. But what could she expect from an evil, soulless thing incapable of love?

_"You still see yourself as evil and if anything bad happens, especially to the people you care about, it has to be your fault." _Spike shivered as Tara's words continued to cloud his self-flagellation. She was wrong, it _was _his fault. His fault that Dawn had been taken. His fault that Buffy was hurting so much. Hell, he idly considered whether he was to blame for Joyce's death. 

_"_…_If you're looking for me to tell you how bad a person you are, or how this is your fault…you're talking to the wrong person." _The vampire stiffened as he remembered the determination and assuredness behind Tara's words. Being the one to see through people was his job, yet the usually timid Wicca had cut to the heart of his insecurities in a matter of minutes. She had laid it all down on the line, speaking the truth like he usually did. 

"Spike?" Buffy said. She had sensed the tension rip through her companion a few minutes ago and wondered what had the blond vampire so up in arms. The first time she had called his name, it was barely above a whisper, as she didn't wish to disturb the still sleeping Faith before them. This time as she called his name, Buffy nudged him in the ribs with her elbow before he finally snapped out of his malaise. 

"Sorry, luv," he said absently. Still concerned, Buffy maneuvered herself in position to look him directly in the eyes. 

"What's going on, Spike?" 

"It…"

"And don't give me that 'it's nothing' bullshit," she whispered fervently. "Besides," her voice softened, "last time you said that, I had to stand and watch you playing the part of the undead rock star."

Spike stared at her for several seconds before breaking out into a halfhearted grin. "Thought you liked my little rock number, luv." His scarred brow arched suggestively and Buffy couldn't stop the heat from rising through her body and she sheepishly looked down, studying the floor. 

"I did." It came out almost inaudibly and even with his enhanced hearing, Spike was barely able to make it out. 

"You did?" He queried, obviously surprised. 

"Yeah, I did. You weren't half bad with the singing," she said noting that it was his turn to study the floor under them. "Guess it's all that practice you have with the Sex Pistols and all."

Spike snorted. "I'll have you know, pet, that The Sex Pistols are, for all intents and purposes, legends."

"Of what? Lame names?" she muttered and was rightfully greeted by a sharp pinch on her leg. "Hey," she said indignantly before smacking his offending hand away. 

"Serves you right, talkin' about greatness like that," he huffed. " 'Sides, you can't even make an informed judgment when you haven't even heard the bloody group play."

"Oh I have information, all right: Sex Pistols. 'Nuff said."

"Whatever. Bloody bint," he muttered under his breath. 

"But that's not the point," she said, encircling his hand with both of hers. "The point was that you bared yourself to me sans the chains and it was…" she fumbled over what to say next. "Well, it was a once in a lifetime thing. And I don't mean in 'the summoning the Lord of the Dance demon from hell to take my sister as his bride' way. I mean it in the 'man singing to the woman he loves' sort of way." Buffy made sure that his ice blue eyes were on her when she had emphasized the word man. 

Spike took in the sight of his sleepy-eyed slayer, not knowing what to think. The past day had been a bevy of emotional twists and turns that had them both still reeling, pleading for a much-needed break in the action. But fate was sadistic and he knew they would never get a reprieve as the world was always in peril and someone was always in need of saving. All he did know that, if possible, he would meet those demands by her side, if only she allowed him. 

"We should get the baby bit to bed, luv," he said, motioning to the huddled young woman on the floor. 

"Yeah, but where should we put her?"

"The Niblet's room is…" Spike began and immediately cursed himself for his brazen stupidity. Buffy's hands had tightened over his and Spike knew that despite the brave front, Buffy was still out of her mind with worry. 

"Sorry, pet. Might insensitive of me."

"No. It's okay," she murmured and ran her hands through her hair. Dawn's abduction was just another worry on the list of evil's attempts at driving the slayer insane. It was a new tactic though no less effective than attempts at fresh slayer-ki-bob. 

"Buffy," Spike addressed the slayer forcefully. The demand in his tone was enough to jolt her from the ever-increasing burden that she carried across her back. 

"Listen to me pet and listen good. We are gonna find the Niblet. We always do. And you'll see; not a hair on her tiny head will be harmed. I swear to you."

"But what if he already has hurt her?" She expressed the thought they both feared. 

"But he hasn't and we both know it." He hoped the false confidence in his tone was enough to convince Buffy that everything was all right. The small smile that crept up on her face let him know that she was forcing herself to believe it. 

"We should get her into bed," Buffy whispered and motioned to Faith. Spike nodded his assent and walked over to her huddled form. He gingerly positioned his arms underneath her and was surprised when she rolled into his embrace. He lifted the slight girl into his arms like an infant and made his way toward the steps with Buffy closely behind. 

"I guess Tara is staying here," Buffy remarked as she peeped through the window before securing the curtains. Spike glanced back at her and smiled before he continued the slow walk up the steps. 

Nudging the door open with his hip, Spike casually navigated through the dark room of the missing teenager. He smirked as posters of N 'sync and several other abominable excuses for modern musicians littered Dawn's walls. _Guess I'm gonna have to show Niblet what real music is, _he mused before reality unceremoniously dumped a pitcher of ice cold water on his mental retreat.

Though he had told Buffy that Dawn was okay, he really didn't know that was the case. He hoped beyond hope that it was true but what if she was right? What if who ever it was that nabbed her had already done the deed and harmed her? Killed her? Or worse--turned her? The medley of thoughts that pervaded his mind caused his body to stiffen. The soft moan of the figure in his arms was enough to distract him from his thoughts. He placed Faith's head on the pillow and held her legs up enough to pull the covers from under her bottom. He affectionately covered her with the thin sheets and the comforter before gracing her forehead with a tender kiss. 

"Daddy?" her sleepy voice called. Spike jumped at Faith's plea and he saw her eyes flutter open, barely able to focus. 

"Yeah, baby bit?" He answered automatically, startling himself with the ease at which he accepted the title she had just addressed him with. _May not have been her father, but I was her daddy. _

"I'm scared," she said and her thin arms wrapped around his neck before he could do anything. 

Not wanting to pull away from her strong grip, Spike settled himself onto the bed and enveloped her with his own embrace. "Scared of what, luv?" he asked while he stroked her hair. 

"That you'll be gone. That I won't see you again," she sniffled into his duster. The pain and fear in her voice was enough to have tears prickling at the back of his throat.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," he assured, "I'm not going anywhere." 

Faith's grip around his neck tightened for an instant before she relaxed her grip and her hands hung limply on his shoulders. "Promise?" she asked as sleep began to claim its hold over her again. 

"Promise," he whispered in her ear and he hugged her firmly to his chest, afraid to let go. 

_I'm going to be a Daddy, _Spike thought. Even if it wasn't in the biological sense, he was almost satisfied in knowing that this small woman would be his in everything but blood. A very small part of him was glad about the latter, considering that she wouldn't inherit his insecurities or penchant for evil. He could tell that all her traits were strictly from her mother. Her strength of character. Her resolve. Her stubbornness and somewhat flippant attitude, though he may have rubbed off a bit of the last two on her. The point was that Faith Summers was nothing but good. There was no evil in her and that was enough to let him know that she was not his. 

_Tara may think I'm not evil, _he thought bitterly, _but I am. Always have been, always will be. _

"Daddy?" Faith called and it was evident that she was, for all intents and purposes, asleep. 

"Pet?"

"You're a good Daddy and I love you," she said and kissed the spot over his heart before falling into the oblivious realms of dreams. 

The tears that had been abated earlier cascaded down his cheeks and Spike didn't understand why. What she had said, though he wouldn't know it until later, was exactly what he needed to hear. He knew Dawn didn't see him as bad and neither did Tara. Even Willow, whom he had threatened on numerous occasions didn't look at him with a "Spike is evil" glare. Anya, well, that chit didn't care one way or the other. Truthfully, aside from the whelp, only Buffy really thought that he was still evil though her actions tonight had been a total one-eighty from her previous convictions about him. Still, he had tethered the line between man and monster but those eight words from the child he didn't know was his was enough to push him over into the right direction. 

No, he didn't realize it now, but for Spike the message had implanted itself deep down in his core; he was a good man. And once he finally accepted that, nothing would ever be able to take it away from him. 

***

Buffy had watched as Spike cradled Faith in his arms and whisked her into Dawn's room, laying her down on the partially made bed. The tenderness he exuded with her touched Buffy in a way she had never known. True, his affection had been there earlier but that was around other people. Then, of course, there was the fact that since then she had found out that Spike was Faith's real dad in every way, shape and form.

"Daddy?" She heard the young woman call out as Spike tucked her underneath the covers. The love with which she said it was too much and Buffy stifled a choked sob by raising her small hand to her lips. She lowered her head, tears threatening to spill for the umpteenth time before she left the two alone and went to her room.

The petite blond took several minutes to brush her teeth and rinse her face before she made it to her room. She softly closed the door behind her and immediately went to fasten the drapes, blocking any attempts of the moonlight from stealing a view of her solitude. How long had it been since she had returned? Three months? Five? Six? She really didn't know and didn't care either. All she knew was that she had felt more in the past day than she had in all those months combined. She was so despondent when she had returned save for the fleeting moments with Spike. Buffy had wrongfully assumed that she was devoid of even the basest emotions though, if anything, tonight had confirmed she did have the full compliment of emotions. 

Buffy undressed quickly and wriggled into a half-shirt that was barely enough to cover her now bra-less chest. She slid under the sheets and sighed at the coolness of them on her warm skin. Her hands were laced behind her head as she stared blankly into the darkness above her. 

Her mind was on overload and she couldn't help but long for the simpler times in Los Angeles when her parents were together and she was just Buffy Anne Summers; little Ms. Popular herself. It seemed like a lifetime ago and, in truth, it was. Six years, two deaths, a new baby sister not to mention the death of her mother and no less than five apocalypses later (throw in two vampire boyfriends) and where was she now? 

"Lost," she whispered to the quiet shroud of darkness around her. She sighed deeply at her admission. So much nonsense (important, but nevertheless nonsense) cluttered her brain to the degree that she had no idea which way she was facing most of the time. It was by sheer luck (_Or Spike_) that she had gotten this far. Though it was a constant reminder of how normal she was _not, _the slaying was actually the part that kept her halfway on the road of sanity. The deluge of other things--bills, work, taking care of Dawn--the more mundane things of life that steered her clear into the median and swerving into a cow ditch. 

_How did Mom do it? _She thought for the countless time. Though she hated it at times, Buffy felt that slaying was actually a godsend to her. Before it, she had had no clue as to what she wanted with her life and even now, when she thought about the possibilities of retiring from her slayer-hood, she still drew a blank as to what her life goal would be. She'd welcome the dusting of a vampire or lopping the head off a particularly nasty demon to dealing with teachers for Dawn or balancing the checkbook any day. But dealing with them both was something beyond difficult. 

"It's not mission difficult, Summers, it's mission impossible…" she muttered to herself and laughed harshly just as her door opened discretely. 

"Slayer?" Spike called, not too loud. 

"Yeah?"

"You decent?" He asked seriously before adding a trademark sexually charged innuendo. " 'Course, not that I mind you indecent in the least." 

Buffy smiled lightly at Spike's continual turn into the sexual. "What do you want, Spike?" she asked though her voice contained a hint of amusement. 

Half-expecting some snarky comment, Spike was taken aback at Buffy's somewhat mirthful response. Taking it as his cue, he slid between the partially open door and its frame before closing it. He noticed the darkness of the room, only slivers of moonlight sneaked through the pulled curtains. Hands in his pockets he approached the bed, stopping at the foot before addressing Buffy nervously. 

"I put Faith to bed," he informed but never took his eyes off her black boots. 

"How is she?" Buffy asked and sat up. She didn't even notice as the covers pooled around her waist. 

"Fine," Spike replied desperate now to find something interesting on the floor but failing miserably. Out the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of her pert nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt and it was enough to stoke the fire within that always simmered in his desire for her. "Sleeping like a baby." He finally managed to prevent his feet from taking root and slipped toward the window. 

"Where are you going?" she asked as he reached for the curtain. She tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice but failed miserably. 

His arm stopped short of the curtain and he let it drop to his side. "Bout to head back to the crypt is all. Don't wanna wait 'til good old Mr. Sunshine…"

"Stay," she said simply and Spike couldn't help but stare at her in amazement. 

"What did you say?" he asked, not believing he had heard it. 

"Stay," she repeated but with more feeling. To get her gesture across even more, she scooted across the bed and pulled the covers back partially. He saw her smile as she patted the empty space beside her and he couldn't help but to beam like a fool. 

Wasting no time, Spike stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving the green spheres of the woman he loved above all things. He stalked over her, not bothering to hide his arousal as he slipped beneath the covers and drew her close to him. He kissed her fully on the lips, enveloping her touch, her taste, and her scent. The minty fragrance of toothpaste and that flavor that was distinctly Buffy's danced across his tongue as he lapped at hers in a languid ritual. His hands traced over the smooth curves of her body and though he knew every inch, every centimeter of her, he couldn't help but feel as if every time he touched her that it was, in fact, the first time. 

As his hand cupped her thong-laced butt, Buffy moaned into the mouth of her cold lover. She draped her leg across his thin hips and pulled him closer, feeling his erection bounce expectantly against the lace of her panties. The familiar taste of Spike invaded her senses and it took all her willpower not to ravage him then and there. She didn't want that at all. She wanted what they had in the crypt, the slow, rhythm-filled dance in the forest. Not that she didn't like the way he pounded unmercifully into her flesh as if it was his duty to cripple her, no, she _loved _that. But if she was to change the dynamics of their relationship, things had to change. Of course, every once in awhile, the hardcore shagging wouldn't be too bad, now would it?

Spike read the deliberate motions of Buffy's flesh and knew that she wanted to experience the rightness of their lovemaking from earlier that night. It was taking a great deal of willpower not to just rip those silky panties away and shove his engorged cock into her like it was his only hope. But she didn't want that now and, for the most part, neither did he. Truth be told there was something even more precious that he wanted than her body at the moment. 

"No," Buffy whined as Spike slowly pulled away from her. Her lips searched for his as her hands palmed at his naked flesh. 

Spike had to fight the urge to acquiesce to her demands but he didn't want to just yet. 

"Buffy," he said as he caressed her flushed cheek. "Open your eyes, luv." He grinned as she huffed before opening her lust-filled eyes to gaze at him. 

"What's with the stopping?" she asked and stuck her bottom lip out for effect. 

"None of that, luv," he said before leaning in for a quick kiss. 

"Why not?" She stuck her lip out even further.

"Because…"

"Because?" She scooted closer toward him as her hand found his prized possession. 

Although he was focused, Spike couldn't help but growl in satisfaction as her petite hand wrapped around his aching cock. He balled his fists tightly, clutching at the air before he was able to gently nudge her hand away. 

"Spike?" Her voice was filled with a bevy of emotions. Lust. Confusion. Irritation. Disappointment. And fear. 

His brow furrowed at the thought of the latter. _Why would she be scared? _He thought and dismissed the question just as quickly. He had already surmised earlier that the one thing she needed above all others was reassurance that he wasn't going to pull a disappearing act. _And to her, turning down her sexual advances meant only one thing. _

"It's not like I don't want to luv. There's not much I'd rather be doing than shagging you until the bloody cows come home." She visibly relaxed before speaking. 

"And what would you rather do than that?" Her hand skimmed across his rippled abs, eliciting a guttural sigh. 

"Well," he said and brought her hands up to his lips, taking the time to kiss each knuckle individually. "Numero uno on that list would be to make love to you until I died." Their eyes met and Buffy's lips parted in awe. The adoration on her face was a sight to behold and Spike thought that for a fleeting moment she was going to say the words that he so much wanted to hear. Instead, she leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips. When she pulled back, she gazed into his eyes and Spike felt the chill up his spine at the foreign look she gave him. It was filled with something he had never been shown and he couldn't discern it. 

"So what's number two?" 

Spike snapped out of his wandering mind and focused on what he wanted to say. " 'S not near as interesting as the other two options, luv, but it's just as necessary. Maybe even more so." 

"And that would be?"

"Talk."

"Talk? Is that some sort of slang for…"

"I want to talk to you. No, I want you to talk to me." He squeezed her hands for emphasis. 

"Talk about what?" she asked cautiously. _Don't ask me about Faith. Don't ask me about Faith. Don't ask me about Faith, _the mantra repeated in her head. 

"Us." 

"Oh," she said and relaxed just a fraction. 

They sat in silence for several minutes; both lost in their own thoughts, waiting for the other to speak. Though she had wanted Spike in every physical sense of the word, she really did want to talk to him as much as he did her. She had never gotten the chance to ask him about what was going on when he returned from outside. There was something about him that sagged when he had come in, as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders just as much as she felt it upon hers. But where did she begin? She didn't have confidence to just blurt it out like he did. She wasn't the master of initiation that he was. 

_Unless it revolves around slamming my lips into to his to shut him up, _she added ruefully. 

Spike, too, was lost as to where to begin. He wanted to ask about Faith and what she and Buffy had discussed. He wanted to tell Buffy what Faith had said to him and if she knew why. But most of all, he wanted to ask her about them. True, they had discussed it earlier but there had never been a definitive answer though it was as good of one as Buffy had ever given concerning their relationship. Still, as insecure as he was, it did nothing to alleviate the doubts within that screamed at him to rid himself of her before she broke him completely. 

"So," the sound of his accented voice cut through the silence and seemed to echo through the room. "What were you laughing about earlier? When I came in?" 

Buffy sighed deeply and rolled over to her back though she kept a firm grasp on Spike's hand as she gazed at the familiar nothingness of the dark. Her eyes were adjusting and she could trace slight patterns from the ceiling unlike a few minutes earlier. 

"Nothing. Everything. Why does everything have to be so hard?" 

Spike sighed inwardly, thinking it was the same Buffy: pitying herself that the world gave her a raw deal. He knew it wasn't fair, but sometimes she aggravated him with her victim attitude. 

"Thought we went over that earlier, luv," he said as evenly as possible. 

"I know," she sighed and turned back to him. "It's just that, I just can't do it all by myself. I mean, there's the house to take care of. And Dawn, oh my God. I forgot what teenagers were like. I really don't remember being so rebellious…" she stopped when she heard a snort. "What? Something funny?" she asked defensively. 

"Nothing. Just the sick little notion you have in your head that you weren't rebellious."

"I wasn't," she defied in a small voice. 

"Bollocks. You are the Queen of Denial, aren't you, pet?" He saw her trademark scowl surface but refused to head for higher ground. "I mean, you are the most stubborn person I know…"

"And how would you know?" she asked indignantly, eyes blazing. 

"Takes one to know one, luv. Takes one to know one." Her demeanor lightened considerably and she couldn't hold in a slight chuckle. 

"Well-maybe I am just a little bit headstrong."

" 'Little bit?" he scoffed. "Yeah, and bloody Siberia is just a little bit cold. Face it, Slayer, no one is as obstinate as you are. I applaud your mother for not bashing you on the head with a crowbar at an early age."

"Hey," she shrieked and slapped him on the arm. "Not a good visual."

" 'S not like she didn't have it in her as my head can attest to. Almost brained me with that bloody axe. 'Stay the hell away from my daughter.' " He smiled wistfully at the memory. "Wish I could thank her for that."

"Huh?" 

"Well, if it weren't for her parental masquerade as the bloody Calvary, we wouldn't have gotten this far."

"How so?" 

"C'mon, luv. I had you dead to rights and you know it. Oww," he shouted after a less than playful shot to the ribs. 

"Whatever," she snorted and turned her back to him. Not two seconds later, she was back to facing him. "That's such crap. I had you right where I wanted you."

"Oh, right," he rolled his eyes at her. "Guess you were waitin' for the moment _after_ I cracked you with the two-by-four to spring your plan into action, huh?" 

She frowned for a minute before cracking a smile. "Okay, so maybe you did have me there. But I so kicked your ass on Halloween."

Spike smiled and kissed Buffy on the forehead. "Yeah, you did. Kinda had me runnin' with my tail between my legs, you did." They were silent for a few moments, reliving the close calls they had, times where one or the other could have been killed. Why had it never come to that? Neither one would ever be able to answer that question and they didn't want to know the answer. It was much better just to speculate. 

"It's not just Dawn and the house," Buffy started seriously. "It's everything. I was thinking before you came in that, as much as I complain about being a slayer and the hard choices I have to make, at least I know where I fit in when it comes to that. At least I know what I'm doing. I always complain about wanting a normal life and the more I think about it, if I did get the chance to have one I'd have no idea where to start. I mean, what am I good at? Slaying? Doubt there's many job openings for that in the real world.

"I just don't know how Mom did it," she sighed and unconsciously wiped a stray tear away. "Over and over again, she did it. Get up and get Dawn ready. Go to work. Get back and fix dinner. Deal with the teenager issues. How do I deal with those when I'm not too far removed from being a teenager myself? Yeah, I may kick ass and have more battlefield experience than most Navy SEALs will ever have but what about everything else, Spike? My social and professional skills are limited at best."

"C'mon, luv. It can't be that bad. I fancy you've got skills you don't even know about."

"Like what?" She propped her head up on one elbow. "Let's have a looksie at my domestic skills first. I can't cook. I suck at driving. I can't organize my bills if my life depended on it. Then there's the whole Dawn issue. We won't even go there. Now, on to my professional expertise. Let's see what we have behind door number two. I can't type and the only job I have had is working in a fast food joint I can barely stomach. Not much in the way of career advancement there, now is it?" She snorted in frustration. "Sometimes I think that the Powers have a twisted sense of humor. 'Let's bring the Slayer back and let her live longer than any other slayer. When she gets a certain age, why don't we take away her slayer skills and watch her fumble through the rest of her life with no clue as to what to do." She dropped her head in defeat only to feel Spike's cool fingers prop her chin up. 

"Look at me, Buffy." He demanded. She was taken aback at the command in his voice but complied nonetheless. "Everything you just said is nothing but rot. You know what I see when I look at you?" She shook her head. "I see the strongest woman that I know. A strong, determined, selfless individual that does things because it's the right thing to do. Not because it's easy. No skills? You think you have no skills? What about you refusal to give up? That alone puts you ahead of fifty percent of the wankers in the world. You are bold and daring, willing to take a chance. That's another twenty percent out of the way. You keep a level head when everyone else around you is falling apart. Knock out fifteen more. That leaves fifteen percent of the world."

"And that fifteen percent has what I don't, right?"

"I'm not done, pet."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. 

"Then you have friends and family…and me," he lowered his head before he raised it again. "Each and every one of us will do anything, even die-for you. How many people can truly say that?"

"You would die for me?" she whispered. 

Spike stared at her and Buffy couldn't help to notice it as the most sincere look she had ever seen from him. Even when he'd said he loved her, each time, he kept a small shield up to deflect the pain he knew he'd feel. In that single moment, Buffy knew. 

"I'd walk into the sun itself for you, Buffy." He said softly. "Without so much as a second thought."

Buffy didn't know what to say. The honesty behind his words was staggering. This immoral creature of the night would lay down life and limb for her but she knew it was more than that. He had done the same for Dawn and she surmised he had saved the Scoobies on more than one occasion while she was gone. The more Buffy thought about it, the more she realized how lucky she truly was. To have friends--no, they weren't even friends now; they were family--that she had was a one in a million thing. So maybe she wasn't well to do in certain areas, but her support system that was her family, not to mention the love of the former Scourge of Europe. His words helped her see the truth; she was so fixated on what she didn't have or what she couldn't do that she was blind to the things that she did have and the things that she could do. 

Buffy leaned in and kissed Spike again, not for the sake of passion but for the sake of gratitude. "Thank you," she said after she pulled away, "for everything." 

Spike nodded, as he didn't trust his voice to express it in words. The feeling in the kiss went well beyond lust, passion, and desire. It even surpassed love. That was the beauty of it; the kiss expressed all the things she couldn't, for all the things he had done that she had no words for. It reminded him of the one she had bestowed upon his lips after his torture at the hands of Glory. But considering his deeds since, Buffy had put even more of herself into it. For that moment, the kiss was enough to tell him that she loved him. She may not have been in love with him, but she loved him in someway. _Guess that may have to do,_ he thought. In the end, even if they only remained friends, as long as she loved him in some capacity, it would be enough. It would have to be. And he knew that that love would be what would sustain him through the rest of his days. 

***Next chapter: Buffy realizes a horrible secret that Spike has kept under lock and key. 


	29. Atlas Reprieved

***What does Buffy find out about Spike that is so bad? HeHe…Read and find out. 

CHAPTER 29

"You never answered my question from earlier," Buffy said as she nestled against her lover's cool flesh. Though their naked bodies were pressed against one another, they had not made love. Instead, their hands had explored the familiar crests and curves of one another as their lips and tongue danced to a refined melody. Neither one had the answer as to why it hadn't escalated further thought it had felt like that was enough. The emotion they had felt had somewhat dissipated and they were content to just lay there in the darkness, two creatures on opposite ends of the spectrum, as each other's comfort. 

"Couldn't quite answer your questions, luv, what with the right good snogging we were involved in," he smiled, nuzzling his face into the dizzying scent of her hair. No longer was it pure Buffy but a blend of the day's events. The wild smell of nature on top of the calmingly musty scent of the crypt mixed with sweat and the lasting remains of her vanilla shampoo. But one thing was certain; still there, underneath it all was the undeniable scent of Buffy. 

Buffy laughed and slapped the vampire teasingly in the chest. "And I wonder who's idea that was," she jokingly accused. 

"Not like it was hard, luv. Beautiful woman in dental floss knickers laying beside me…not hard at all."

"Well," she said and grabbed his member in her hands, "it feels hard to me."

"Careful girl," he said, rolling on top of her, "or else you just might get staked." He finished by lancing his tongue across her jawbone.

The cool feel of Spike's tongue against her flesh was enough to start the familiar pulse between Buffy's legs. But as much as she wanted to feel him inside of her, she wanted one thing just a little more. 

"Spike," she said, gently pushing him off. She smiled as he groaned in indignation, though he complied. 

"I wanna talk."

Spike's first instinct at Buffy's words was to laugh, though it was cut short by a stake-like stare from the petite blond. He bit the inside of his cheek to prevent another guffaw and it took several minutes before he was in control of himself enough to speak. 

"What was that, luv? For a minute there, I thought you said you wanted to talk," and his infamous smirk reappeared in all its glory. 

"You know, you can be such an ass sometimes," she seethed and roughly turned away from him, crossing her arms like a petulant six-year old. 

"Buffy, luv," he cooed and put a hand on her shoulder only to have it jerked away. He tried again with the same result before he decided that a little force was needed. 

With vampiric speed, he grabbed both of her shoulders and whirled her around, clutching her to his chest. "Now, are you going to stop pouting like a baby or am I gonna have to hold you like this all night until you _do _stop pouting like a baby?" 

The morose look on Buffy's face slowly dissipated, and was replaced by a more serious one. Spike wasn't sure whether or not he liked what her face was telling him. _Yeah, and I'm the bloody poofter that always wants to talk, _he moaned internally. 

"Spike," she said softly as her features twinkled with concern. His hands to residence around her waist and he dropped his gaze from hers. It was something about her tone that scared him…like she knew his big secret. 

"You never told me what was wrong earlier."

"Well, 's not like it was my fault," he huffed. "You were the one goin' on and on about my little song and dance for you." It was his turn to pout and he glared at her furrowed brow before crinkling his in confusion as she smiled.

"What?" he asked slightly unnerved. 

"You…and me," she said and shook her head in disbelief. "God, I can't believe I'm gonna say this but we are so much alike."

Spike leaned back in order to get a better look at her. "You feelin' okay, Slayer? Cuz for a minute there I thought you said…"

"We are so _bloody _alike," she finished with an amused snort. 

Spike couldn't help but return the laugh. She had that effect on him when she let out genuine amusement. It was more enticing than blood was to him and he couldn't get enough of it, though he often wished he could be privy to it more. 

"How so pet?"

"A little secret about me Spike…of course you probably know already," she rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "but I tend to get a tad defensive when someone asks me something I don't wanna talk about." She glanced over at him and noticed the trademark smirk was firmly in place. 

" 'A tad defensive' she says? Hate to burst your bubble Slayer but you're more impenetrable than the Walls of bloody Jericho itself." 

"Hey!" she said and elbowed him in the ribs. 

"Just bein' honest, luv."

"Well, keep it up, Dead Boy," she stroked the inside of his thigh and lowered her voice seductively, "and you'll see how impenetrable I can be."

"Watch it, Slayer," he said huskily, "you're not playin' by the rules."

"My room," she kissed him languidly, "my rules." 

"Still not fair, pet," he managed between kisses.

"You know what they say; all's fair in love and war…"

They lost themselves in each other's tender touch for several minutes before Buffy nudged him away again. 

"What?" he asked as she looked at him in reprimand.

"You're stalling."

"What?" He asked incredulously. "It was your bloody lips that were all over me!"

"Well," she said sweetly, "my room, my rules. And rule number one states…" she trailed off, allowing him to finish for her. 

"That what Buffy says goes. Am I right?" 

"Good to see you're catching on," and she kissed him once more on the lips before scooting away. "Now, spill it." 

Spike turned his head to the ceiling and pursed his bottom lip between his teeth. As much as he didn't want to talk about what was on his mind, he really didn't see a choice. True, he could have strong-armed Buffy into leaving him alone but where would that leave him the next time _he _wanted to talk? _Least by doin' this, I may get her to open up a bit more. _

Buffy studied her lover intently as her eyes had adjusted to the moonlit room. His sunken cheeks had retreated even further into his face, a trait she had learned signified him being in deep thought. She smiled as she watched him chew his lip with a dogged ferocity all the while his eyebrows scrunched in concentration. _Either what he's gonna say is really serious or he's editing it for Buffy, _she conjectured. When he hadn't spoken for another few minutes, she opened her mouth to encourage him along when he uttered his first words. 

"You know, I still dream about it." 

"About what?" she asked, confused at his conflicting tone. Though it brandished the same hard edge on the surface, underneath it was an abundance of…Buffy couldn't quite figure it out just yet. 

" 'Bout savin' you," he answered. This was so hard for him, to actually admit that he failed her and finally have her realize it. How would she look at him? With disappointment? Anger? Pity? Or worse, would she cast him off in disgust for letting her die? For letting Dawn be taken? Would she banish him from her and the Niblet's lives for good? His mind struggled with his heart, the former understanding that she would never blame him though the latter stressed that she _should. _

"Anyway, I was just upset about the Niblet and all," he waved casually after deciding against a true confession of his most shameful act. "Figured that it wouldn't have happened if we were here."

"Well," Buffy said, choosing every word carefully, "it's not like we really would have been prepared for a vampire that doesn't need a personal invite and all. I mean, what's the chance of that happening? I mean, I understand what you're getting at and I can't help but feel the same way…" she drew in a deep breath before letting it out. "But it won't help beating yourself up about it. It's done and all we can do is focus on what's necessary to bring her back unharmed." She stared at him pointedly before he risked a glance toward her. "You taught me that." She kissed him on the nose and he smiled back--tiredly, she noticed. Something wasn't right. The complete lack of fire in his gaze, the way he had started talking about saving her, the deliberate smoothness of his tone. Buffy gazed at him intently and gasped. It was right there on his face and the glassy film covering his eyes and the way his face had shrank when he had said he still dreamed about saving her. 

"What is it, luv?" he asked after the sharp exhale garnered his attention toward her and away from his self-depreciating thoughts. 

Buffy stared at the blond vampire who gazed back at her in concern. She had almost pushed herself off the bed when everything had fallen into place. Her hand had automatically shot over her lips and now she dropped it slowly back to the bed. 

"You still blame yourself, don't you?" she whispered and Spike immediately tore his gaze away from her hazel stare. 

"Well, if I hadn't held you up, maybe the Niblet…"

"Not that," she interrupted and leaned a little closer toward her wary lover. "You still think it's your fault that I…died."

Once the words were spoken, Spike felt a piece of him shatter. Never in a hundred lifetimes would he have thought Buffy would ever suspect the truth about his failure. Hell, it hadn't been more than a few hours that she had truly shown she cared and that he was more than a 'convenience'. He had no idea what to do so he did something very rare for him; he remained silent. 

Buffy couldn't help but look at the downcast vampire in an eclectic blend of horror, shame and sympathy. How could she have not seen it before? _Oh, I was too stuck on how everything affected **me**, how hard it was for **me. **I never thought two shits about what Spike felt or what he was going through, _she berated herself. All these months of using him for her own benefit and she had neglected to see, or even consider, that he had feelings. No, that wasn't true at all; she knew he had feelings when she had called him convenient, knowing that she was twisting the knife into his belly. 

__

"God, Spike," she whispered as the guilt threatened to choke her, "I've been such a bitch to you."

Spike presented a ragged smile at her self-deprecation and gently brushed a wave of hair out of her eyes. "Well, guess you have to be to stay on your toes, being the Slayer and all." His attempts at humored had no effect on neither of them. 

"No," she said and couldn't help the mist forming in her eyes. "I've been more than a bitch. They don't even have a word for what I have been to you." Her eyes fell to his chest and she was unable to look into his blue oceans without falling apart. 

Spike wanted to say something but what could he say when she was speaking the truth? She had been a bitch, using him when she felt the need while degrading him at every turn when said need had been satiated. True, he had done nothing to stop her, but his inability to say no didn't excuse her actions to any degree. Still, he loved her and no matter what she had said and done to him, he didn't want her to feel any pain. 

"Luv, it's all right," he placated, trying his damnedest to lie. "You were going through a difficult time in your life and I was just…"

"What?" she cried, nearly hysterical as their eyes met. "Just because you're there means that I can treat you anyway I want. Oh wait, I forgot," she mocked sarcastically, "you don't have a soul, ergo, no feelings. Isn't that what I said." She saw him bristle at the memories her words undoubtedly conjured and immediately laid a hand on his taut shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Spike. I am so sorry," she said as tears drifted down her face. She still found it difficult to look him in the eyes and settled for his lips. "I have the one thing in you that I never thought I'd find; a man who loves me, all of me. Someone that doesn't treat me like I'll break, someone whose not worried if I can kick his ass or not and someone who sees my faults and accepts them." Buffy was stunned at how easily the words poured out her mouth and she paused for a second but continued lest the ever-comfortable denial reared its ugly head. 

"Spike, I really don't know what to say. I'm always complaining about having a normal life--God knows I'll never have one--but the defining thing of being normal is standing right in front of me." She shook her head in disgust. "Sometimes I wonder if Tara missed something and I did come back wrong."

"Buffy," Spike said, "it's not like that at all. There is nothing wrong with. When I said that, I was being a bloody wanker. You are fine, pet."

"So why can you hit me? Why can't I even look my friends in the eye? Why do I treat someone that risked his life countless times for me like shit?" She noticed that his mouth opened and closed like a fish and no words emerged. "It would have been better off if I would have stayed dead." As soon as the words were out her mouth, she heard the strangled sob catch in the vampire's throat. When she finally looked him in the eye, Buffy really wished she could die rather than see the pain visible in his face. _Here I am rambling about how evil a bitch I am and just forget about what he's feeling. Ever the selfish bitch, Buffy. _

"There have been a lot of memorable nights in my hundred and twenty odd years, you know? Told you about my dances with the two slayers. Getting back at all the gits who berated me at that party the night Dru changed my life. Pounding the great Poof into the ground with the crowbar. That time you kissed me after Glory 'ad made me her whipping boy, " he glanced at her furtively, "the first time I was inside of you. Never forget a moment. 

"But," he closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath, "the happiest moment of my entire existence was when I saw you walk down those steps." His eyes open and focused on her. "And for the first time in over a century, I think I felt my heart beat. For a hundred and forty-seven days, I dreamed that I saved you or that I could see you one last time…never thought I'd get the chance to. I couldn't even think straight. Didn't even think about how I failed you until I got back to me crypt. All I could think about was 'Why wasn't I better?' Until you came to see me that night, I thought you'd be disgusted with me…" he trailed off and Buffy could see how much this admission was costing him. She could practically feel the sorrow and guilt flow off him in waves. 

"Spike," she said gently and took his hand in hers, "you didn't fail me."

"Didn't I? Last thing I remember is that you…died because of me. Because I wasn't fast enough or strong enough. You put your faith in me, something I had wanted from you for months and when the time came, I failed. I let you die," the last four words were spoken below a whisper and it was a miracle to Buffy that she heard them at all. 

"Spike," she said with conviction. "You did not let me down. You did what you could. That was all I asked. How could I ask anymore?"

"But…"

"And I chose to jump off that tower. It wasn't your fault."

"That Dawn didn't get cut? That the portal opened? That there was no way in hell you were going to sacrifice the 'Bit, no matter what it cost? C'mon, Buffy. You never had a choice because I never gave you one." Tears that were once threatening now spilled freely down the vampire's cheeks and Buffy could do nothing but sigh. 

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

"Because," he forced through tears, "I am nothing but an evil, soulless thing. There is nothing good in me." Spike was so distraught that he failed to realize the irony in his words though the meaning was not lost on Buffy and she let her own tears burst forth. 

"You're wrong, you know that?" she spoke calmly despite the ache inside of her. 

"Wrong, luv? How so?"

"You may try to be the Big Bad. You may try to be evil. Hell, some of your actions may still be questionable. But you are not evil, Spike. Far from it. As far as the soul goes…it doesn't matter when you have humanity. And there are at least a hundred and forty-seven things good in you. For everyday you watched over Dawn. I knew you would watch over her and you did; for that, I thank you." She smiled and Spike couldn't help but to grab her into his arms. There were no kisses, only the tender embrace of comfort as he held onto her as a final vestige of life. 

"As far as being a 'thing'," she whispered into his ear, "you're far from it. You're a man, William. A man that I am proud to know and honored to have love me. And if you're looking for forgiveness for that night, don't look at me," he stiffened slightly until she finished her thought, "because there was never anything to forgive. You did your best and for that I am proud of you." She took a deep breath as she listened to him fight the tears. She hadn't finished but she didn't think she could say the words that, at this moment, she knew she felt for him. Despite her bravado, she was still holding a piece of herself in reserve and she wasn't sure how to let it go. But she could say one thing, to let him know just how much she thought of him. 

"I trusted you with her life then and I still do," a sob escaped his tight lips. "But more than that, William…I trust you with my life…and my heart…" she wanted to say it but at that moment, the hurt and pain and everything surrounding it burst forth and Spike cried in earnest. She held him like a child, whispering soothing words in his ears as he sobbed into her shoulder. Her own tears crept across his skin as she rubbed circles around his naked back. 

Spike had only felt pain like this when he had come across the slayer's broken body all those months ago. As it was, all the pent-up shame was being released from its reservoirs in his memories. He had always thought he'd live with it the rest of his life and a part of him would. But the brunt of it all slowly dissipated from his soulless core and the weight perched atop his shoulders lightened considerably. She had called him a man (twice tonight) and had given him her trust. It was something that he could not fathom and he made a silent promise to himself that he would walk through the sun itself than to see her die again. 

He had been given his reprieve and he knew that, at the very least, his steps would be considerably lighter now. 

***So, what do you guys think? Hope I didn't scare you with the 'horrible' description about what Buffy found out--but to her it was. Just a nice little teaser, I guess. 

***Well, the next chapter _Pieces of the Same Puzzle, _should be up by Wednesday, the 24th at the latest. I just finished before I posted this but it is very long (at least 6200 words) and there is a lot of revising I may have to do. It tells you about the real reason Jennifer wants Dawn and how they are both connected to Emerald. A lot of questions are answered though some more are brought up. 

***Chapter 31, _Dawn of a New Day, _should be up by next Sunday. It will be the last chapter of part one. I am dividing the rest up into a second part as not to make this a daunting read when people see it. Note: Part 2 will not be a sequel but just the second part of the story. Everything is mapped out so there are no worries there. Part two will have a lot of action as well as a lot of angst. That's all I will say. 

***Reviews are very much appreciated. Or you can write me at d_jasper77@hotmail.com. 


	30. Pieces of the Same Puzzle

CHAPTER 30

PIECES OF THE PUZZLE

Seth had always thought it funny how words had such a powerful effect on people, even more so than actions. Regardless of whether or not you knew the truth by way of intuition or behavior, words had a way of making even the most obvious things real. He had been thirteen the first time he had killed a man and despite the four gunshot wounds to the man's chest, the adolescent Seth didn't process what he had done until his shocked friend had blurted out "Jesus, Seth. You killed him…" He had known the man was dead right away, the hoodlum's eyes had, in fact rolled up to the sky, staring at the twinkling stars overhead, unblinking. But it had been so surreal and up until that point and he had gazed upon the bleeding body with all the fascination of an infant watching a favorite toy disappear behind a parent's back. He half expected the guy to sit up, dust himself off, and finish his task of doing God knows what to the two friends. Once what he did sank into his gray matter, Seth was despondent for days, unable to get past the finality of those three words. 

Though that had been a profoundly negative experience, he had found that even the most welcoming news had a way of sweeping the rug from underneath you. Three simple words had changed his world that first time when he was thirteen and it was three simple words that changed it even more nearly now. 

"What. Did. You. Say?" he forced out through clenched teeth, trying desperately to keep the anger at bay. After he had gotten over the shock of what Jennifer had said, the rage that she had dared compare herself to his only love was almost too much and he had to resist the urge not to sink his teeth into the bitch and drain her dry. In all honesty, he really didn't know why he hadn't already. 

"You already know, don't you?" she asked, mirroring his internal thoughts. "You feel it, too," she said as she ran her fingertips across his chest. 

The hairs along the back of Seth's neck rippled from her touch as well as her words. The truth was that she was right; he did feel it. Fact of the matter was that, when he had first laid eyes on her at the bar, aside from the deep sense of fear that coursed through his undead bones in her presence, there had been something else; a sense of familiarity that tickled the back of his mind. And that faint tickle had grown with every minute he had been with her. She was Emerald, to that he had no doubt. 

But then, why did Emerald look so much like Dawn?

Paying no mind of his nudity, Seth rolled out of bed and stood on the flawless hardwood floor. He faced Jennifer with wary eyes, his hands combing through his tousled locks. Slowly, almost painfully, he finally regained his voice. 

"What? How?" 

Jennifer graced her lover with a placating smile before she crawled towards him on all fours, stopping at the edge of the bed, inches from him. She kissed the flesh below his navel and was rewarded with a husky growl before her hands clasped at the sides of his waist and she pulled herself to her knees. 

"Tell me," she said softly and planted a ghost of a kiss against his chest. "Tell me about Emerald. What did she look like?" 

At first, Seth glared at the beautiful woman before him as if she had grown two heads but almost as quickly, his iced stare melted as images of his once love filtered through the confusion of the past two minutes. 

"She was petite," he said wistfully, his hand instinctively cupping the bronze cheek of the woman before him. "Her face was so young, like she stopped aging before adulthood or something. And it was in her eyes too," he peered into the obsidian coals that stared back at him, mesmerized by the adoration he saw there. "Just like yours. Darker than night but filled with a life of its own. And her hair," he poignantly ran his free hand through Jennifer's disheveled locks. "Just like yours—same as her eyes, except hers was a mane that trailed down to her waist."

Jennifer almost smoldered at the look of love visible on the vampire's face and she wanted nothing more than to love him. It had been less than a day and the feelings he wrought from her were that of two people that had been together for years. 

"But what about her?" Jennifer chided. "What was she like? Aside from the physical." 

Reminiscing about Emerald had brought a calmness over him that he rarely felt. He gently maneuvered Jennifer to the middle of the bed and stretched out beside her, clutching at her possessively. 

"First off, she was strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever met. She was so untouchable; nothing could get to her. Even me."

"What do you mean?" She asked, her fingertips stroking his chest. 

"C'mon, honey. You've been around me long enough to know that I can be a grade-A dick. Hell, look in the dictionary under self-centered, egotistical and prick and they will have a picture of me under each entry complete with cross-references to evil, sinister and sadistic. But hey, evil here, right?" They both chuckled softly, such a natural sound to the both of them. 

"Fact of the matter, love, I was evil way before I became a card carrying member of the undead. That was me and Emerald's time," he said his voice choked with distant memories, "nine months. Nine short months was all I had with her." he sighed heavily. "But anyway, like I said, even my attitudes didn't faze her. I mean, she got annoyed but never really pissed. Well…" he said, remembering the one moment when he had been afraid for his life. 

"What?" Jennifer asked, craning her neck just enough to catch a touch of--shame? Regret? Fear?--flicker across his eyes. 

"There had been this one time where I was being not quite the gentleman to an ex of mine I happened to run into…

__

"Leave me the fuck alone, bitch!" an irritated Seth yelled at the brunette who glared at him with a powerful display of fear and hurt. 

"What is wrong with you, Seth?" Cynthia asked through a waterfall of tears. "I just wanted to…"

"Wanted to what? Say hi? Catch up on old times? It's been three years Cynthia. Three fuckin' years and you just wanna come sit by me and have a chat?" He was being unreasonable, he knew but he was pissed. Emerald had been gone nearly three days and it was the first time since they had met over a month ago that they had been apart more than twelve hours. 

"Yeah," she spat resentfully, "three years for something I didn't even do. I took the hit for you, Seth and what do I get? Not so much as a visit or a phone call. Not even a fuckin' letter!" she stood, arms at her side, shaking with rage. 

Seth smirked at her and shrugged. "Why would I waste my time? S'not like I cared about you or anything…" he threw back a shot bourbon thus missing Cynthia's expression of rage contort into one of torturous pain. . 

"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"You heard me," he said, eyeing her through the thick bottom of the shot glass. "It's not like I cared about what happened to you."

"I thought…" she stammered, "I thought you loved me." Her body trembled but not with anger. A sadness and pain that she had never experienced coursed through her as she gazed upon the man that had been her first everything. First love. First lover. He had been the one to show her the ropes when her parents kicked her out. She had been sixteen then. And now, three years later, she was still the little lost girl whose heart was more fragile than porcelain. . 

Seth glared at her as if she had sprouted two heads before bursting into a derisive cackle. "Loved you? **Loved you**?" Seth stood and slowly, deliberately stalked over to the quivering girl. He eyed her slight form and caressed her jaw with the back of his hand. Her tears clung to his skin and he twisted his hand in admiration of the fact that he caused them and he didn't feel a damn bit guilty. This hadn't been the first time that he idly wondered if he was as soulless as the demons that walked through the night. No, he had a soul, all right. Problem was, it just didn't seem to work. 

He ran his tongue across his tear-laced knuckles seductively, savoring the salty bitterness of Cynthia's pain. 

"Cynthia," he said, his tone understanding, as if he were trying to explain something to a child. "I didn't love you. I mean, what was there to love? First off you were young," he thought a minute, "pretty as hell, but young. But looks don't go too far, you know. You had--have--no confidence. You're not rooted in the real world, living in that fantasy of yours about us being together. And to top it off, you aren't too bright…"

"But you said…" she forced out through trembling lips. 

"I said what I had to say to get you to spread those virgin legs of yours." He laughed when he saw her convulse as if she were wracked with seizures. He could have stopped there, the damage already done but he wanted to make someone suffer. And since he had promised Emerald he would stay out of trouble, he had assumed she meant of the physical persuasion, he had to get his shits and giggles out somehow. Causing Cynthia pain would no doubt alleviate at least a portion of the anger coursing through him over Emerald disappearing. 

"But…why?"

"Because I could. Because I wanted to see how long it would take before you gave in. Because I was tired of taking and wanted it to be given to me. Pick one, I don't give a fuck. The point is that I never loved you. Hell, girl, all you were was a tender piece of ass I could shove my prick into…" but Seth's humiliating diatribe was cut short as he was slammed into the wall and stars danced in front of his vision. That and one pissed off looking Emerald. 

She had been there the whole time, watching him. She had just gotten back from Gabriel and had tracked Seth to this club. At first she was amused at the way the young girl gushed over Seth and Emerald had known almost instantly that he had been the girl's first. Emerald had known that Seth could be as ruthless as any demon but not even she had been prepared for the callous and malicious words that spewed from his mouth. Every shot he threw at the young girl enraged Emerald more and more, to the point that the greenish energy crackled and radiated about her. She was totally oblivious to the patrons near her that swiftly introduced themselves to the exits at her display, intent on the continual battering of this girl's obviously fragile psyche at the hands of Emerald's lover. 

The last comment had been the straw that broke the camel's back and Emerald had reacted. With a swiftness she had never shown him, she flowed over to Seth and grabbed him by the arm, flinging him into the wall, temporarily forgetting that he was human. The few people that saw this display marveled at the woman and cautiously backed away as she glared down upon him. 

"Emerald," he said hazily as he struggled to his feet. "What the…"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," she seethed and he complied. Emerald gracefully turned to the shocked and broken girl and affixed her with a radiating smile. She walked over to the girl, who shrank at Emerald's touch. 

"Shhh, it's okay, Cynthia," she cooed and brought the girl into her warm embrace. Grateful to feel loved, Cynthia did not hesitate to fall into Emerald, her heaving sobs vibrating between both of the petite women. Closing her eyes, Emerald tapped into the power within her and bathed Cynthia with it, though the latter was too distraught to notice the green embers of light from Emerald's body that engulfed them both. 

A part of Emerald was disgusted by this behavior, feeling that Seth should have been praised for his ruthlessness. But another part of her, the human part of her that came alive when she was with Seth, cried at the outrage, knowing that someone close to her had gone through the same thing and it had almost destroyed him. She saw him now, broken and beaten because of her, and the one person he loved more than her could do nothing but call him evil and soulless. He had never been appreciated then and it had taken years for the others to accept him. Emerald had remembered that one tragic summer well, where she and him had been there as one another's lifeline to the real world. If she could help it, she would not let this young girl go through the same thing. 

_Gently placing the girl's face between her hands, Emerald raised Cynthia's chin up until their eyes connected. The pain and fear was even more pronounced than before and the girl's light blue eyes only helped remind of her best friend of days past. _

"It's all right, sweetie," she cooed. "don't think about what he said, it's not true."

"But…" Cynthia gasped as she felt her body shimmer as a white hot pulse surged through her. She instantly felt the pangs of hurt that only moments before, threatened to consume her disappear, leaving only a dull, but very bearable hurt in the pit of her stomach. 

"Tha…thank you," she choked out. Not knowing what else to say and freaked by the whole 'radiating heat' thing, Cynthia slowly backed away before losing herself in the crowd of onlookers. 

Emerald smiled as she watched the girl disappear, pleased that she could help. She stiffened as she sensed the familiar presence moving toward her and when she turned to face Seth, her visage was anything but friendly. 

"God damn, Em," Seth yelled as he fingered the lump forming on the back of his head. "What the…" but he quickly shut his mouth as he witnessed her eyes darken and the light energy outlining her lithe form pulsating until it was an angry hunter green. 

"What was that about?" she gritted through clinched teeth, her usual melodious voice now deep and hoarse with anger. 

Seth was speechless. He had lived on the streets for more than ten years and had faced death virtually every night, whether by bullet of gangbangers or by fangs and talons of demons, he had never been afraid. Until now. 

He had seen, felt, the power that coursed below Emerald's bronze skin and the pain that coursed through him when she had healed him was the most painful experience of his life. But deep down he knew what she had displayed then was only a fraction of her true power. She had asked him to curtail his street habits and Seth had been happy to comply for several reasons. Though he never feared death, he still did not want to face it anytime in the near future and being with her kept the grim reaper from knocking at his door. Of course, the fact that she screwed his brains out every night they were together, rending the urge of doing anything criminal was also a factor in that. But there was also something else, something primal, that gnawed at his insides, something he was loathe to admit. 

He was afraid of her, utterly and completely. 

She was generally so sweet that, even when she was agitated she offered no reason to be feared. But there was always that annoying prickle of doubt in the back of his mind that told him to 'watch out'. That same prickle had grown into a sharp stab of self-preservation that now screamed at him to get the fuck out of dodge. 

"_Em," he addressed her softly, palms raised in supplication. He forced himself to close the remaining distance between them despite his leaden feet that so desperately wanted him to flee._

"Did you have fun, Seth?" She spat as she now advanced on him. Her whole body shook with the rage of seeing someone hurt like that. "Did you have fun shredding that poor girl's heart? Did it give you a hard-on watching her cry like that?" 

Seth had abandoned his earlier idea of approaching her and as she glided toward him, backpedaled hastily until he found himself, quite literally, with his back against the wall. 

"Em, please," he said evenly though the slightest twinge of doubt crept into his voice. He could almost hear the thud of his heart in his chest as his options were pretty much used up. 

"Please what, Seth? Please stop this? Isn't that what she said? Isn't that what her eyes pled when she looked at you? But you didn't stop, Seth. So why should I?" 

Seth's eyes bulged as the power that coursed from her pressed against him like a bulldozer and he couldn't move. The air slowly seeped out of his mouth as his lungs were milked of the life-giving element. He painfully became aware of the slowing of his heart and had a moment of true panic that he thought he'd never experience. He was going to die and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. 

But just as Seth felt the final reserves of oxygen leave his being, he collapsed to the floor in a heap. Not even daring to look at Emerald just yet, the brunette concentrated on filling his depleted body with air as he inhaled it in large gasps. 

He didn't know how long it took before the lightheadedness went away but when he looked up again, the face that greeted him was not what he had expected at all. 

"Hey," Emerald said softly as she cupped his cheek with the palm of her tiny hand. It took all of his willpower not to shy away from her touch but he did. He noticed the unnatural warmth permeating from her palm and surmised it was some sort of after effect of her light show. 

"So," he said and this time was able to keep the residual fear from floating into his voice, "mind tellin' me what the hell that was about." His tone was calm though it was touched with a hint of anger. 

For a split second, Seth noticed her eyes darken and her features cloud before her face was again the picture of pristine beauty. 

"Seth," she said, her obsidian eyes boring into his brown ones, "I'm sorry for what I did. But that hurt me to see you talkin' to that girl like that. Hurting her like that."

"Em--I didn't mean…" but she cut him off with a vehemence that brokered no argument. 

"You did mean it, Seth. You meant every single word. I saw it--in your eyes," she finished softly and he sheepishly dropped his eyes. She was right, he had meant every single word to cut into Cynthia like a hot poker, twisting and wrenching it until there was nothing left but a muddled corpse--figuratively speaking, of course. Why did he want to hurt her so much? The answer was simple: because he could. He never would have guessed Emerald would have been here…or fly off the handle like she did.

"You know why it hurt so much, Seth?" He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak lest he give her more ammunition to flay him with. "Because someone I cared about as much as anybody went through that. He had someone whom he loved more than anything berate him over and over again about how he wasn't good enough for her and how he was evil and soulless." Her eyes studied the floor as she sighed before sitting against the wall next to him. . 

"I was pretty much a kid then," **or at least part of me was, **she added to herself, "but he treated me like I was an adult. And you know what? I was the only one that didn't treat him like a monster. He was my best friend and I loved him so much." She wiped her eyes as tears trickled down her exotic skin. Less concerned about his own well-being, Seth wiped a single tear away with his thumb. Emerald responded by leaning into him and he coiled his arm around her shoulders. 

"The things I saw him go through, Seth…nobody deserves to be hurt like that. Nobody. Promise me that while I'm with you you'll never do something like that again…" 

The air was thick with tension as the petite figure waited for her lover's response. She couldn't explain it to him, but sometimes she got like this where the other part of her, the human part of was all that there was and that the dark, evil half of her was nonexistent. Usually they coexisted as one but every so often one or the other would gain dominance. There was no doubt that the evil part of her would, one day become the dominant part of her and her human self could only lament at the loss of what she was all those years ago, when she was just a kid--right before this all happened to her. 

So lost in her own thoughts, Emerald barely registered the sincere promise that fell from Seth's lips…

"I promised her," he said, his hand absently stroking the raven mane of Jennifer. 

"Wow," was all she said. Never would she have believed that the killer before her would have ever been placated by the simple request of a young woman, no matter the potential consequences. But her wonder was short lived as the final pieces of the puzzle aligned. 

"I wasn't lying," she said after several minutes of silence, "when I said I was Emerald." Seth tensed underneath her though he bit back whatever scathing retort or violent action that passed through his mind. He wasn't sure why, but this time he was going to hear her out. 

"How?" he muttered, his tone held only a slight hostility that was drowned by his wonder. 

"It's called the Enjoining," she began and could almost feel his brow furrow as his stare burrowed into the top of her head. "It's a ritual older than time itself. It is where the essences of two beings are brought together to create a greater Being. The vast majority of beings, whether demon or otherwise, have not the power within them to take part in it. Only those specially gifted have even the mental comprehension to even fathom it."

"Wait a minute," Seth interrupted, a hint of incredulity lacing his words. "I have been a vampire for ten years, and in that short time, I have seen a generous amount of demons capable of what you are talking about. Myashna demons, in fact, absorb their victims to the point that they are able to take on the victims' physical and mental traits for a short time. Then there are Zhanasets, whose powers grow the more essences they absorb, whether it is demon or human. Then…"

"It's not the same," she interrupted, irritated. "Do you not think that my title as the First has no meaning?" She said, controlling the darkness within her that threatened to bubble to the surface at his condescension. "I have seen things that are so hideous that even someone as powerful and 'fearless' as you would cringe at. Things have walked the planes of existence that are beyond comprehension. Things whose powers were almost limitless. And you know what?" She asked and purposely bore her nails into his flesh. Seth hissed as her nails ripped through the first, then second layer of skin, though he did nothing to stop her. That fear that coursed through him at their first meeting was back with a vengeance and for once, the vampire kept his mouth shut. 

"The only thing--besides God--that they were afraid of was me." With an inhuman quickness, Jennifer was on top of Seth, her nails still clawing at his shoulders. She felt him grow hard underneath her though the fear and uncertainty in his eyes was almost overpowering. She smiled down at him, grinding her hips into his erection. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Seth was terrified. Despite the ministrations of her sex against his member, the only thing he could see was an Evil that cascaded off her in waves. It was an almost overwhelming sensation and the vampire couldn't help but feel as if he were drowning in it. Her eyes, much like Emerald's used to do, were completely black, though there was no green effervescent glow to counter the blackness of her gaze. 

"You know why they were afraid of me?" she asked and bucked her hips viciously against him, eliciting a groan from the vampire. Seth was trapped between a triumvirate of emotions--fear, anger and arousal fought for dominance within him though the first continued to remain in the lead. 

Jennifer smiled sadistically at Seth, reading the bevy of emotions that were visible in his unnatural blue eyes. The scent of fear that pervaded her senses was intoxicating. She had forgotten the addictive effect fear was, especially when it came from a creature as powerful as the one underneath her. 

She leaned towards him, her thick mane of rave hair trickled across his face, and whispered in his ear. "They were afraid, Seth," she kissed him lightly on the check, "because I could make them do anything I wanted." And as quickly as she had mounted him, she was now laying beside him. 

It took several minutes before Seth could speak again and when he did, he couldn't quite keep the hoarse aftershock of fear from his tone. 

"How?" he asked though the borrowed blood that sung through his veins already knew. 

"You know, humans and demons aren't as different as you'd think," she said matter-of-factly. "I mean, yeah there's the whole penchant for destruction in demons, but there are more than a few humans who harbor that trait. Most demons feel no remorse, what with the absence of a soul, though there are those that do. Just like there are humans who feel no guilt taking the life of another. People think that demons don't have souls--they are wrong. They have them all right. The difference is that a demon's soul does not function in the same capacity as a human's. But that's not important right now. The important thing is to know that a soul just does not appear from the ether."

"What do you mean?" Seth asked, his curiosity in the matter overriding his fear. "I mean, is there a Souls-R-Us or something that gives 'em out?" There was no humor in his question, only a twinge of doubt that, if anything, was there by habit than his distrust in her words. 

"Something like that," she smiled before licking her lips lasciviously. She saw his adam's apple bob and his muscles tense. _He wants me, _she thought as her own core began the familiar burn between her thighs. _But it'll have to wait. _

"To be simple, a soul is nothing more than a reservoir of energy," she saw his dubious expression and amended her statement. "Okay, so it's not nearly that simple. But for the purpose of what I'm telling you it is. A soul is very similar to energy in the fact that not only does it exist indefinitely, even before inhabiting a body, but it can never be destroyed."

"What about vampires?" he asked, his interest growing even more. "I thought that the human soul was hijacked by the demon which in turn destroyed the soul."

"Now that is something I have yet to get to. I will save that for later. Now, let's just stick to the purely human and purely demon souls. 

"Like I said, souls are already created even before they are needed. For every demon or human that will inhabit this plane of existence for the next millenia, there is a soul already waiting for it's enjoining with its mortal host. Now," she gazed at him poignantly, her charcoal eyes burrowing into his, "think about it; these souls aren't just flitting around on there own, partying like it's 1999 or anything like that. Just like prisoners, a warden of sorts is needed to keep them in check. Someone or something that preceded the creation of the soul. Someone or something that is, in fact, the template from which they were created. Something ancient, something older than time…" she trailed off, letting him absorb what she was saying. 

Seth frowned when Jennifer trailed off. She had told him quite a bit about things he had only idly considered, never really interested in finding out the entire truth. But now, that was exactly what she was giving him. Demons and humans both contained souls? That said souls are preconceived well before there is an actual body for it to inhabit. That a 'warden' was needed to keep…

Jennifer smiled when she saw the rationalization behind the eyes of her vampire lover. They were wide in disbelief as his mind finally made the connections with her hints as well as what he felt before her. 

"You," he choked out. "It's you. You are the keeper of souls…"

"Well, in a way, yes." She replied simply. 

"What do you mean 'in a way'?"

"Think about it. Just like energy requires a main source…"

And that was when he knew. "You aren't just the First Evil, are you?" 

"The First demon soul. Pure in its darkness, untainted."

Seth laid his head back against the pillow and stared at the bespectacled ceiling. He ran the hand not embracing Jennifer shakily through his hair. This was getting to be too much, even for him. So the soul coiled within her mortal shell was none other than the First demon soul. If it weren't for what his own 'soul' told him, he'd probably be laughing hysterically now but as it was, he could only gape at the magnitude of it all. Still, as he regained a semblance of clear thought, he realized that she still had not answered his question. 

"Okay, all that is fine and dandy, Jen, but what about the piece about you being Emerald? Where does that fit in to all of this?"

Jennifer smiled again and snuggled closer to her lover. As she did so, his body stiffened as his tension mounted. It wasn't everyday you found out that your lover was the First Evil. 

"Do you know about the Creation, Seth?"

"Uh, not much of a Jesus-freak, sweetheart. Being all evil like I am."

She chuckled lightly before continuing. "Well, the Creation, as told in the Bible is accurate, more or less. Of course the whole seven-day idea kind of falls by the wayside since time was nonexistent then. Anyway, what I'm trying to get at is that, since the beginning, the most important thing in this world has been Balance. In creating day, He also created night. With man came woman. Love beget hate and yada, yada, yada. But before all that, He brought forth into being, for lack of a better term, the yin and the yang. Good and Evil. And he blessed them with the power over their kind." She sat up again and drank in his hard, ashen body. Her desirous thoughts were beginning to supercede her need to explain to him the importance of it all. 

"The power," she said as she bent down and flicked her tongue against his nipple. Seth inhaled sharply, torn between listening to her revelation or plowing into her like before. From some unknown crevice in his mind, Seth was able to steady his body as her warm lips alternated between speaking and kissing his body. 

"The power to control those whose soul was taken from them to start," she bit down on his nipple hard, drawing blood. "To strike fear into the hearts of all, and able to manipulate all souls though controlling only those created from our essence." Her hands danced across his taut flesh that had soon lost much of its previous tension. 

"So," he said between ragged breaths, "since your essence is what demonic souls are taken from, they are yours to control?"

She smiled in a sexual taunt before answering, "more or less."

Seth ignored her cryptic reply and concentrated on what was really on his mind. "That still does not tell me what you have to do with Emerald. Or why you need the girl." 

At that, Jennifer paused and studied him carefully. There was still so much he did not know and she doubted he ever would understand even if he did know. Regardless of that, he did deserve to know the truth about his future lover. 

"Think about it. I am the First, the source of all demonic souls. If I am, and you know that everything has Balance, then…" she paused waiting for his reply. 

This time, as Jennifer trailed off, Seth 'got it'. It wasn't just an inference or a partial truth that he understood. No, it was the truth of the matter. The truth about Dawn, Jennifer and Emerald. 

"The girl, Dawn," he said with wide eyes, "she is the First Good and true spirit." He sighed heavily at the implications of it all. That small girl harbored in her the Purity of life within her. It was something that, despite what he had just said, was scarce to comprehend. 

"Yes, lover," Jennifer drawled, "she is the First Light. That light which was used to spark all of Creation. It is that reason why she has access to all the dimensions and gateways throughout time and space--and even portals that mortal minds can never grasp. She and I are opposite sides of a coin. Where she is the well from which humanity's souls rest, I am the pit from whence demonic souls are created." 

"So, why is it that she doesn't know?" Seth asked. If Jennifer was correct, the young girl could have incinerated him where he stood when he had kidnapped her. Instead, she had fallen prey to unconsciousness as any mortal would have. 

"This mortal shell that we both inhabit limit our power. Even a demonic shell could not contain the powers that we have been gifted with. The last time I was here, I was nothing more than a wraith, taking shape when necessary but still limited. It will always be that way, even if the powers within her awaken, she will never contain the power that she is. Just like me. She can still do things that I cannot and never will be able to. Though I can traverse the dimensions, my influence is sometimes limited and I am unable to bring others forth through portals like she is."

"Why is that?" Seth asked. 

"Because of what she is. Her Light is able to penetrate even the greatest shrouds of darkness."

"I thought it was all about Balance, though."

"It is. And where she can do that, my influence on humans is much more effective than her effect on demons."

"How so?"

"In her true form, demons in her presence shriek and wilt in decay, until they are nothing. That is the power of her Light. My effects on the human soul is much more subtle. There is no physical manifestation of my effects though the metaphysical effect is seen through their actions meaning that it is much easier for a human to switch to the side of evil than a demon switch to good."

"Sounds like a fair trade," the vampire mused. 

"Yeah," she replied sarcastically. 

"What?"

"It's not important. The important thing is that the Enjoining take place without a hitch."

"This Enjoining…why are you doing it?"

Jennifer smiled viciously. "Because, once we become as one, I will possess the ability to traverse dimensions as freely as she. We will be joined…"

"And Emerald is the union of you both," he said, expressing his earlier realizations. 

"Yes." And with that, Jennifer's mouth descended upon his. 

As she kissed him, Seth could not help but avoid the distractions that played in the back of his mind. Emerald--his Emerald was the perfect union between Good and Evil. It was staggering on one end but at the same time, made perfect sense. Emerald had once told him, before he was turned, that if he found out what she really was, he would have run from her. Of course, he had dismissed her claims but now…now he wasn't so sure if he wouldn't have done just that. For as evil and sadistic as he was as a human, compared to his current status, he was a choir boy. The human in him most likely would have bent under the fact that he was sleeping with the original Evil. 

But as deep as his thoughts were, Seth's mind shut down as he felt Jennifer's hand guide his stiff member inside of her tender flesh and was soon lost in the blissful pleasures of the body. He had once thought that making love to Emerald was the closest he would ever get to heaven. Now, as Jennifer viciously rode him, he couldn't help but laugh internally at the fact that he was inside the fiery depths of hell itself. 

He knew that, sooner or later, he would get burned. The only problem was that he didn't care. 


	31. Dawn of a New Day

***This is the final chapter of "Family Ties-Part One". 

CHAPTER 31

She awoke to the silence of the room. Blinking back the fatigue of the night's earlier exploits, Jennifer craned her neck to look at the figure whose arm was wrapped so protectively around her waist. Though she could not make out his face, she smiled at the coolness of his body against her warm flesh. She felt so protected that, for an instant, she forgot about whom she was and what she was here to do. 

Jennifer closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of sex still in the air. After she had explained her motives to him, they had participated in even more carnal acts of desire. Were it not for her limitations and need for rest, she didn't doubt that they would still be at it even now. As it was--she glanced at the green digits of the clock across the room--they had about eighteen hours before show time. _Good, _she thought as she wiggled her rear into the groin of the fast asleep vampire. 

The simple motion of her hips quickly erased all traces of sleep from Seth as he growled into the back of her neck while his own hips ground against her firm ass. She moaned in pleasure and reached a hand behind her, cupping the back of Seth's head as he trailed kisses up and down her spine. 

"Seth," she murmured as she felt his cool shaft slide between her slick thighs. Raising her leg, she cried out louder when he entered her in one violent stroke. As he plunged into her, forgotten was her true nature. Forgotten were the slayer and her friends. Forgotten was the Key. Forgotten was the Enjoining. All that she knew what the feel of her lover inside her and the way he made her feel, both inside and out. 

As she screamed into the air and collapsed against him, spent, Jennifer couldn't help but beam at it all. Everything had fallen into place nicely. Twenty-four hours ago, she had expected to do this alone, but now…now she had a partner. Someone whose desires ran almost parallel to her own and the human part of her couldn't help but wonder why the fates had been so kind to her. It didn't matter, she had all that she wanted and in--seventeen hours, she would be on her way to becoming the One. It never crossed her mind that things would not work out. It never occurred to her that the slayer (or slayers) would be able to stop her and Seth. 

Her thoughts were interrupted and chills ran through her when she heard Seth whisper three small words into her ear before he drifted off to the land of the undead. She melted even further into his embrace, her arms sliding along his as tears clouding her vision. This was almost too good to be true. 

"I love you, too," she returned his declaration and though he was asleep, Seth's body relaxed even further, tightening his hold on her minutely. Everything had been taken care of the night before, so there was no need for an all-day planning session, thus they could afford a few more hours of sleep. Hell, they needed it. 

Jennifer's final thought before she followed her lover back into the realm of dreams was that this day couldn't pass soon enough. After the Enjoining, she would be truly immortal but maintain her current form and she was quite eager to begin the rest of eternity at the side of her lover. 

No, this day couldn't be over soon enough…

_This day can't go slow enough, _the blond thought as she studied the marred features of her husband-to-be. Anya had been told the whole story of Dawn's kidnapping and, though the Scoobies didn't quite know why the teen had been taken, in all probability, it meant only one thing: Apocalypse. 

She absently traced the contours of Xander's face with a single finger, as if trying to memorize it by touch. His nose was swollen, though not as bad as it could have been. She supposed she had Faith to thank for that--of course not the "crazy, psycho slayer Faith that just so happened to usher her lover into his manhood" Faith--but "the daughter of Buffy and Angel" Faith. Either way, the swelling would be gone in time for the wedding next week. 

_I can't believe we'll be married this time next week, _the ex-demon marveled. Had it been that long ago that, as Anyanka, she was called upon to bring retribution against this brunette that now shared her bed and her heart with? Now, as she watched him sleep, she couldn't express what she felt for him. He was her lover, her friend, her companion and confidant. Of course, he wasn't perfect but neither was she, though she had an excuse really. Not for her flaws, but for her indistinguishable nature of saying the right thing at exactly the wrong time. A thousand years as a demon did not prepare one for the tact that needed to be elicited with dealing with humans. Two years could never make up for millennia of vengeance. Hell, not even twenty years could. 

Which presented the question of why was he with her. 

She knew she was the perfect orgasm buddy (and at one time she thought that was the only reason he had stayed) and a capitalist of potentially epic proportions but aside from that, what did she have to offer? She wasn't the most beautiful woman--though she had to admit that her cheekbones were quite ravishing--and her social skills were tenuous at best. She never understood his jokes and, more often than not, the Scoobie humor. It also seemed that they only tolerated her because of Xander (and the fact that the Magic Box was _the _premier spot for Scoobie Central). But what did _she _have to offer?

At the realization that the answer to her question was 'nothing', Anya closed her eyes and cried silently. She didn't know how long the tears fell, but her eyes opened when a warm hand caressed her cheek. Leaning into the gesture, Anya opened her eyes and stared into the chocolate pools of her fiancé. 

Concern was etched in Anya's features and he fought through the sleep to figure out what it was that hurt her. It didn't take long since it was the same look he often wore when she wasn't looking. That far away, helpless look of insecurity; the not knowing or understanding of why you were loved by someone you thought to be above you. It was strange to see it on her face, however--this brave and beautiful young woman (well, relatively speaking) exuded confidence even at the most desperate times, even when she was worried out of her mind. But now, that confidence was stripped away and the pain he was in had faded only to be replaced by a deeper ache of his soul at seeing her like this--eyes bloodshot and her cheeks stained with tears. He wanted so much to be able to wipe her fears away with a few well placed words but he knew that would not be enough. Instead, he did the only thing he could think of--he kissed her. 

Anya was surprised to say the least when she felt Xander's lips engulf hers. It was a kiss filled with passion but tenderness as well. And the slight hesitation alerted her to something else, something that she never expected to feel from Xander. 

Reassurance. 

At that moment, she knew that he felt the same way she did about him. She wanted to scream at him for that, doubting that he was good enough for her. She wanted to slap him silly for not thinking that she was content with him, no matter how unfunny his jokes were. She wanted to tell him that she would love him for the rest of their short, mortal lives until they were old and gray and raisin wrinkled. 

In the end, however, she decided that her actions would speak for her. Yeah, no words. For as powerful as they were, words never seemed to be enough. 

Words had always been their plaything. A sultry tone here, a well-placed innuendo there was what they did. But there were times when all they wanted to do was stare into each other's eyes, green on green, at the love that was reflected in both of them. 

When Tara had awakened to the light chirps of birds outside, she had been surprised that she and her ex-lover were nestled in a familiar embrace, their faces only inches apart. She smiled shyly and, as if she had called Willow's name, the red head had opened her eyes sluggishly. 

It took Willow a minute for her eyes to adjust to her surroundings and before she did, she thought she was dreaming. She had to be if the angel before her was any indication. But as everything swam into focus, she made out the familiar contours of her love. She moved to say something as she noticed that had maneuvered into a lover's embrace sometime during the night. Before she could form words, however, she felt Tara's gentle lips brush across her own lips. To say that Willow was surprised was an understatement and she surmised that it showed when Tara giggled. Willow's frown only made Tara giggle more. Willow soon found the musical laughter contagious and couldn't help herself from joining in. 

With Willow here, laughing with her, Tara felt as happy as she had been since--well, since before the breakup. The few months with Willow out of her life had been so hard that she had spent more than a few nights crying herself to sleep while other nights were spent willing herself _not _to cry until she fell asleep. Of course, some days were okay but she had found the mornings to be harder than even the nights. Waking up to an empty, loveless bed had sometimes overwhelmed her but she stayed strong knowing that Willow was fighting an even tougher battle. 

As the laughter died down, Tara could only gaze upon this sweet creature in front of her and marvel at how the red head had captured her heart. They had been through so much in the time they had known each other, some bad, but most of it good. When Tara had found out that Willow had altered her memory _twice, _she had for a time thought it was over. They were oceans away and the blond didn't know how they would be able to cross it. It hadn't been easy but they had graduated from the Atlantic separating them to just a simple turn between them and greener pastures. As Tara dove in for a second, more passionate kiss, she had made up her mind. They had come so far that it seemed like a waste not to take advantage of the situation at hand. 

When Willow saw Tara move in for a second kiss, she couldn't help but be amazed at how they had come so far. When Tara had left her, she had felt they were half a world away and would never be able to reconnect. As their tongues danced their familiar rhythm, Willow thanked whatever deities were listening for their flight across the distance, back into one another's arms. 

It was, after all, where they belonged.

He was almost home. 

The polite announcement from the stewardess roused him from his dozing. He removed his glasses and sleepily rubbed his eyes, all the while trying to process what she had just said. Oh, right. They would be landing at JFK International within the hour. Excellent. Despite the fact that he was lounged in business class, a transatlantic flight wasn't the most joyous of activities.

Replacing his glasses, he twisted his neck from side to side, painfully delighted as the kinks were forced out. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, Rupert Giles flipped his notebook back to the beginning. He needed to go over everything once more, just to get everything straight because once he landed, the flight out to LAX would depart a scant thirty minutes later. He had decided that the flight out to California would be best used resting up as well as figuring out a way to explain it all to his children. 

__

My children, he thought tenderly as the faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and the gang flitted through his mind's eye. As funny as it sounded, Giles had, however unintentionally, adopted every last one of them as his own. He was quite sure he would never have any progeny of his own blood, resigned to make the sacrifices necessary of a Watcher. It had been genuine happenstance that his affection for Buffy turned into more than just the adoration of a teacher admiring his pupil. Of course, it had taken Quentin Travers—bloody pillock—to make him realize consciously something that his heart and soul had already known. 

Buffy was as much of a daughter to him as if she had been born from his own seed. 

He pinched his nose to staunch the tears that threatened to spill as he thought of her. She had been through so much, never truly getting the opportunity to grow up, to be a teen. She had been thrust into the charge of saving the world at the tender age of sixteen and he couldn't help but feel responsible for her current lot. If only he had chosen differently, then maybe she could have had a normal life. 

__

But it doesn't work that way, Rupert, the rational side of him reminded. And that was the problem. Feeling so helpless at times, not able to help her gain the life she deserved gnawed at him more than anyone would ever know. 

__

And what did you do when she needed you? Scurried back to merry-old England for a cuppa tea. The guilt he felt over leaving that second time was, at times, unbearable. When he had read the texts that foretold what was to happen-- it had almost brought him to tears. Now, here he was, on his way home, to where he belonged. He just prayed that he would get there in time. If anything happened to Dawn or Buffy--or any of the Scoobies for that matter--he didn't know what he would do. 

They were, after all, his only family. 

Faith stared at the ceiling, her hands clasped comfortably behind her head. She was still tired, managing only three hours of sleep after Spike had carried her to bed. It wasn't as if lack of sleep was a new thing for her--it was a pretty common to say the least. She hadn't slept through a night since she had seen Buffy ram that stake through Spike's chest…

The blond shivered at the memory and forced it down as she flipped to her side, facing the window. She couldn't see the sunrise from here but she could see the crawl of its rays over the trees and houses across the street. It wouldn't be long before the King of Day's loyal subjects flooded the streets. 

A giggle escaped her lips and she covered her mouth to stifle the sound. Spike--no, Daddy--had told her that when she was only five and the memory still stood. She had asked him why he never really played with her much outside.

__

See that, luv? He had said, pointing at the Sun. _That's the King of the Day. And the little rays of light are its loyal subjects. Now Kings like discipline and being the rebel that I am, your Da isn't welcomed too much in the King's court. _She had gotten so mad that she had told him that she would never walk out into the sun again. And she stuck to her word. For all of twenty minutes. 

Faith wiped at her eyes, her vision flooded by tears and memories of happier times. Times when she had nothing to worry about except if her Mum and Dad would catch her practicing spells Willow and Tara taught her or if she did bad on a test. The only strategy she had to employ were tactics that dealt with extra dessert or staying up a little later. Things were so innocent then. She lived in a bubble where the monsters were slayed at night by Mummy and Daddy who always came to give her goodnight kisses no matter what time they got in. And her Aunts--Willow, Tara, and Dawn--were always there if she needed them. They were all family. 

Even when she started patrolling, she never really thought about one day not having her family with her. It had been so hard when Dawn disappeared, but there was still the five of them left. It never occurred to her that, one day she would be fighting alone. She couldn't help but wonder if her dependence on someone always being there was the reason that she had been beaten. No, she wouldn't go down that path--it invariably led to thinking about _him_ and the things he had done to her…

But it didn't matter anymore, did it? She wasn't alone now. Not only did she have her parents plus Willow and Tara, but Dawn also, not to mention Xander and Anya, two people she had never met. No, things would be different this time. She would see to it. She would not lose again and she vowed that, no matter what, Dawn would be returned safely and Seth would receive the punishment he deserved. 

Fingering the locket around her neck, Faith swore that she would get the job done, even if it cost her her last breath…

__

…falling

I'm holding on to all I think is safe.

It was a distant murmur, barely audible in her coma-like state. Reflexively, she tightened her hold on the cool body nestled in her arms, intent on reconnecting with the peaceful realm of her dreams. 

__

And I'm trying to escape…

She moaned and jerked in irritation at the continued blitz of vocals that permeated the air. The cool body beside her moved slightly, adjusting its position before bringing her closer to it. She smiled into the body's chest before snuggling closer, the distraction temporarily forgotten. 

…_now that it's over_

Reflecting on all of my mistakes. 

Her eyes shot open at their own volition as everything slowly started to come back to her. Temporarily disoriented, she couldn't place where the clock was. After a few seconds of eye rubbing, she caught the familiar red tint of the digital numbers just over the body next to her. It took her another second to realize just who the cool body next to her was. 

Spike. 

Buffy was a tad shocked at waking up with Spike beside her, let alone nuzzled deeply in his embrace. The shock wore off, however, and was replaced with an almost childlike jubilance. She had all but told him those three words, though she was still too scared to actually go on the record and say them. She wondered if the things she said and the way they kissed gave him…

__

I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking

That maybe six feet 

Ain't so far down. 

Dawn! Her sister's name crashed into her head, laying waste to the giddy emotions of her and Spike's heart felt talk. Instantly, the guilt of sitting on her laurels while her sister was out there with some lunatic began to gnaw at her and she needed to get out of his arms. 

Spike had been partially awake since Buffy's first irritated grunt. Though he heard the clock radio sound off with music, it was her change in breathing that was his trigger, as if he was in tune to her every tick. Her struggling to get away had wakened him fully and he was instantly on guard. His first thought, of course (and why wouldn't it be?) was that she had seen last night as a mistake and was more than ready to rebuild the barriers of Ft. Buffy. Though he was afraid of this and wanted nothing more than to leave her be, he had to see her eyes. He had to know what she was feeling. If she was going to crush him, he wanted proof in her eyes--proof that said the love of his unlife was a coward. 

One look, however, was all it took for him to know that this wasn't about him but something else. Her green eyes were filled with pain and glazed over with a haunted look. Her features had twisted into a pain-laced frown and it took him a second to register the emotion most prevalent within her. 

Guilt.

Taking an unnecessary breath, Spike pulled Buffy closer to him. At first she fought it, and he thought she would use her slayer strength to pry herself free. But after a token struggle, Buffy melted into his arms, allowing the grief to overtake her. 

__

Hold me now

I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking…

Their roles now reversed, Buffy cried into the strong arms of her Protector. Though she didn't know if she would ever admit it aloud, that's what he was. He was her partner, her confidant and her lover. As Protector, he watched her blindside, listened to her rants, tolerated her attitudes and watched over Dawn and the others. But more than that, he protected her from the one enemy she didn't have an answer for. 

Herself. 

She cried with no shame and the comforting words he spoke, his accent still husky from sleep, touched her in a way that she wouldn't understand until much later. But when she did--when she did, she would tell him. 

Tell him that she was sorry.

Tell him thank you

But most of all tell him that she loved him. 

The devilishly potent kink in her neck was what woke Dawn up. She had fallen asleep, rather awkwardly, on the couch in the office she had been locked in. Using her right hand to push herself up, she used her left to massage the painful throb. It took several minutes of focused treatment before the discomfort retreated into something more attractive--though a dull ache was not too far from where she had started out, it would do. 

The teen stood and stretched her arms to the ceiling, noting several decidedly less irritating kinks spread across her lithe frame. She went through a gamut of stretches until the sluggishness had dissipated. 

All but the shroud that covered her thoughts. 

She still couldn't get over what had happened when she grabbed the Spike wannabe. The power that coursed through her was a little--no--_majorly _intense. For a brief moment, she was in sync with every fiber of her being. Not only that, but her conscious mind danced across every cell of the three individuals that were in the room. Though the vampire was dangerous, at that moment, Dawn could see that the woman, Ms. Calendar, was more than dangerous. She was something old, something beyond time, almost like Dawn. In that instant, she had known what the woman was planning and it frightened her to the core. Not because the woman was stronger (Dawn knew they were even) but that the woman obviously knew what she was doing while the whole light show and singe had been reflex for Dawn--a reflex she didn't even know she had, never mind being able to duplicate it. 

Of course, just like any moment, it was fleeting. And all the knowledge and power that filled her senses disappeared with only a silhouette's trace now in her mind's eye. 

She paced the room in agitation, unaware of her demeanor as it related to a certain bleached British vampire. She was thinking of Spike, however, and not in the post-crush 'I'm totally over you but really not' way. She was thinking about him hard as if she could will him here and barge in the door. Hell, it had worked before, when Buffy was…gone. 

Dawn gave herself a respite and briefly thought back to the time this summer, before he had started keeping a nightly vigil outside her window, she had sneaked out to see him. Stupid move. Not even five minutes later, she found herself flung over the shoulder of a very unpleasant looking (and smelling) demon. It had carried her to its lair and chained her up as three other of the giant beasts rounded on her, smiling at her (she guessed that's what they were doing) with several rows of decidedly sharp teeth. Though she was terrified, a part of her was relieved that the pain inside her would be over and she would get to see Buffy and her mom again. She had stared up, defiantly, at the beasts, fighting back the remaining tears. 

As they moved on her she heard the dangerously low voice telling her to close her eyes and she complied. She winced, as her ears were audience to the brutal fighting that raged around her. She knew it was Spike and though he was tough, she didn't think there was any way in the world that he could beat four of the giant demons. Several minutes later, Dawn felt his cool hands brush against her arm as he freed her of the shackles. When she opened her eyes, she gasped at the gaping wounds on his face and chest but the look in his eyes would forever stay with her. 

The anger there was tangible and she had steeled herself for his reprimand. No sooner than he got her nickname out, William the Bloody broke down into tears. His words were intelligible as he sobbed against her shoulder; save for his constant refrain of _I can't lose you, too. _As she cradled the emotionally broken vampire in her arms, she couldn't help but to cry along side him and it was there that she whispered for the first and last time that she loved him. It had only made him cry harder and Dawn knew that he had probably never heard those three words said to him. 

Bringing herself back to the present, Dawn wiped a stray tear away. She couldn't keep the guilt at bay and slumped back in the couch. She had seen the way everyone treated him when Buffy came back and yet she said nothing about it. She didn't admonish the Scoobies nor did she soothe him. True, he didn't make too much of an effort and from what Buffy had explained to her in the kitchen earlier; he had been keeping the company of a certain someone's older sister. Still, that did not alleviate them--_her_--of responsibility for casting him off. How neglected he must have felt. They had all been so caught up in their own lives; no one had even given him a thank you for his summer exploits with the gang. 

__

That's gonna change, Dawn thought as her face contorted from one of fear and pain to a scowl of determination. Things would be different once she got out of here. She never doubted for a second that they--Spike and Buffy--would get her out of here. After tonight, everything was going to change. 

And as she lay back on the couch to rest, Dawn had no idea how right she was. 

***Well, that's it for Part One of 'Family Ties'. Like I said, I decided to split it up into two parts, lest it grow to epic lengths. I will start on 'Family Ties-Part II' in a week or so, but I will update my other fic, "Do What You Have to Do" twice during my "Family Ties" hiatus. There you can see my take on what happens post 'Grave'. 

***Reviews are welcome, as always. I'd really like to hear what you liked (and loved) about this story and even what you didn't like. You can leave me reviews or email me with your critiques at d_jasper77@hotmail.com . 


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